January 6th A Poem

January 6th a Poem, the beginning of the end

When I wrote this poem, I did so, and read it in an effort to persuade people to vote against Donald Trump in the November 2024 Presidential Election.  I believed that if Trump was elected, that it would be the end of democracy and America as we all knew it.  In many ways that holds true.  When he was elected, I declared that I was quitting floristry and was going to put my time focus and talents towards writing Democratic Political Speeches that would pursued my fellow countrymen to seek truth, liberty, and justice.  It was the beginning of when I started really paying attention. It was the beginning of when I started to realize we were all being lied to by the Democratic Party.  When Jake Tapper’s book “Original Sin” came out, I read it, and upon completion, officially quit the Democratic Party.  I’m an Independent.  Always have been at heart, and always will be.

What the TRUTH about January 6th really is, I don’t think we will ever know.  Do I believe President Trump’s words to have been incendiary and violence inspiring, yes, I do.  I watched them live.  I watched in shock and disbelief at what was coming out of his mouth.  But, he did not join the rioters at the capital, and it is unclear what role the FBI and instigaters played in the treasonous siege of the Capital.

Regardless of what the TRUTH is, and what the reality vs perception is, for those employees, civil servants, and law enforcement, the TRAUMA was real and is lasting.

My X husband was there that day.  At the time he was a humble picture framer working under the lead of the Sargent in Arms.  He was told to hide under his desk, he was told that they would let him know when it was safe.  They did not.  After dark when they were finally clearing his building, Capital Police burst in and put an AK in his face.  They made him run out of the building like he was a running for his life.

That day changed him.  It changed me.  It changed us.

As I read this poem back after not having looked at it for over a year, I realize how selfish I come across, but I am not a care giver.  I am not nurturing and have my own care-related-trauma.  Maybe if I could have been different, things would have been different.  But I can’t and I wasn’t, and I do my very best.

January 6th, A Poem

January 6th ruined my life.

Who do I hold accountable?

I remember that day

I was at home and

I actually watched the speech

Have you seen the speech?

Have you watched the speech?

It is absolutely incredible

Truly

I watched as the President of

The United States of America

Literally told people

That if they like

that

He thinks

Its ok

To go

Ahead

And mosey

On down

To

The

Capital

And that he would try to

Join them there later

Seriously!?!

What the actual

Fuck

I watched in

real time

Events unfolding

So perhaps

This is the part of the story

Where you are wondering . . .

So, how did that ruin your life?

A bit dramatic no?

No,

ACTUALLY nope.

You see, my husband was at the capital that day.

My husband is a picture framer for the

United States Senate

And because people always ask,

My husband is the person who frames all of the

Official

“Business art” for all of the

US Senators and committees of import

Maybe you have watched the inauguration?

Do you remember the part where all the

Fancy

Important

Powerful people

Congratulate themselves at an after inauguration lunch?

And at that lunch they present a big 3ft x 4ft ish photograph of the president being sworn in?

That is what my husband does.

Obama, Trump 45, Biden, Trump 47

And for the inaugural framing, they actually send several Capitol Police to physical watch him assemble and frame that official photograph.

He is part of history, part of the fabric of this country,

Ok, so now you know what my husband does.

He is a blue collar worker that wears a rough fabricked

“Frame shop” shirt and green apron.

Wood, Glass, Paper and Nails are his medium.

He has learned how to fold any sized

American Flag

With

HONOR

And

Percision.

He is a Patriot.

So, it came to be that on

January 6th, he was at work.

I was on my beige corduroy couch.

The couch we bought together, our first piece of furniture that cost several thousand dollars.

I was watching, and he was watching from the small frame shop television.

What time was that?

I don’t remember, but it was still light out.

January light, cold, sharp.

Traitors who thought they were righteous rebels stormed the capital.

You know what they did.

You know most were never held accountable .

These people ruined my life.

These righteous rebels broke my husband.

You see, I am steel.

I was forged in a childhood hell, but my husband

But my husband

Is a marshmallow (all due respect)

That was why it worked.

He took care of me.

That was what he did best, and that was the only thing I needed from him.

Care.

But on January 6th, 2021, he stopped.

On January 6th, he was traumatized

Left for dead

Unappreciated

And he broke.

If I wasn’t me, I would have broken too.

See my husband was not

“Important”

He is not rich, he is not powerful.

And so on January 6th, my husband was disposable

He was left behind

When he phoned to ask what he should do,

His superiors told him to

Lock the door and hide under his desk.

My husband is a rule followers,

Remember

Opposites attract

And so when G told him to get under his desk and stay there,

He did

Under his desk and scared out of his mind

He waited.

He waited for someone to tell him it was safe

He waited for someone to tell him it was over

He waited for someone to tell him he could go home

No one ever did

No one ever phoned

No one ever went to get my husband

No one ever told him that he mattered

No one ever told him it was safe to come out from under his desk.

I called him intermittently.

I didn’t tell our son when I picked him up from school.

It wasn’t until it was dark

After 7:30pm in January.

When a Capital Security Guard was clearing the building that they discovered him.

He had been hiding for hours

Scared and alone

Only the quiet sound of the hysterical TV broadcasts for information

He did not have companions or cohorts

I hate everyone who left him, and everyone who inspired the siege.

I hate everyone who is responsible for January 6th

Everyone who is responsible for breaking my husband

For ruining our family

Because

You see

My husband was never quite the same after.

That was the day he stopped taking care of me

He was traumstized and he was ruined and nobody cared.

Still, the Senate does not care

When the Capital Security found him, they thought he was an insurgent

When security found him, they pointed an automatic riffel in my

Sweet marshmallow’s face.

They made him show his badge .

He was still wearing his frame shop uniform and smock.

They made my marshmallow run, like he was being hunted through the halls and out of the building.

The police with their guns were running too.

No one ever said

Sorry.

They didn’t fucking care.

All part of the job.

Never admit liability.

He wasn’t important anyway.

They still don’t care.

Essential and expendable.

Disposable.

Just another cog.

Like all of us commoners.

My husband arrived home after dark.

January Dark

Did he go to work the next day?

I don’t remember

If he didn’t go on the 7th, he went on the 8th.

Back through those same halls he had to run through.

Back to that same desk he hid under.

Back to the same security that pointed their weapons at him.

He had a few private therapy sessions that we paid for.

I thought he was fine.

He thought he was fine.

We thought we were fine.

But that was the day he stopped taking care of me.

That was the day his life changed.

That was the day he no longer felt safe going to work.

That was the day my life changed.

The day our son’s life changed.

That was the day our marriage ended,

January 6th, 2021

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Honey Trap Part 1