As the saying goes, a week in politics is a long time, and, as they also say, there are some weeks where it seems like years happen, and so it is, six weeks on from the last post, we now have an American (sort of) Pope, a new major war in the Middle East, and a US president behaving increasingly like Nixon in the late 1960s. Indeed, the current moment seems peculiarly like 1968: a criminal president, conflict in the Middle East, a major superpower war inflicted on a smaller country (then Vietnam, now Ukraine), and political assassinations, the national guard out in the streets of America, and nationwide protests. Probably the main difference is, there are fewer Maoists now, and we've lost John Lennon and Brian Wilson; but, broadly speaking, this is a hinge year and a hinge moment, and when it isn't feeling like '68, it is feeling like '39. Let us hold our breath and hope that peace comes to Iran and Israel, and Gaza, sooner, rather than later. A lot is going to depend on what Trump does in the next few hours, if he follows his MAGA doves, or his GOP hawks...
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.
Comments