I can’t get Donald Trump out of my mind. His face invades my waking hours. Even his voice is a pervasive din that invades my inner world. I can almost smell his breath. I imagine it to be foul.
Watching and reading about his inauguration and various press conferences this week has troubled me. Even here, in Lisbon. Despite my best efforts to ignore him, to turn away; I fail to escape the reality of his chaos, his atmosphere of intimidation and fear.
Although many may adore him and consider him powerful; I am not alone in my disdain. How does one individual corrupt and command such attention? Why does everyone appear to know and call his name? Devoid of truth or mercy, his decisions, and those of his allies, touch every corner of the earth and sky.
I will keep trying to hold on to my peace and power, to employ my own courage, and emerge from this pit of despair in which I find myself. But like a wizard, he conjures anger, and I am disquieted. His dark magic triggers my vulnerability and threatens the safety of those who need care and mercy.
He is a sorcerer from whom, for me, there is no immediate escape. The air has been sucked out of the room, and I am left gasping, pushed down, looking for the sun and hoping for a future that is bright.
