The Twentieth Day has become a symbol I’ve used quite frequently now, in my poetry for obvious reasons. It was a symbol of uncertainty, fear, disillusionment, and chaos. Arguably, it was that day four years ago that lead to some of the creations I’ve wielded so consistently in much of my work today. The Twentieth Day became a title for a prose poem (published in issue 009 of Hinnom Magazine), working as the continuation of another prose poem (published in Spectral Realms #7) Ad’Naigon; an apocryphal moment, contextualizing the state of our country and the world itself. I remember the night tRump was elected, nothing but tears were rolling down my cheeks as I couldn’t fathom the path America had chosen for itself.
Now, the world has changed and the darkness that sought to consume us all has retreated back into the Void. A symbol of unrelenting peril, dangerous sycophantism has become a broken ceiling, rising into the night where the shards of impossibility are nothing but specks of glass; and we walk together beyond the Twentieth Day towards a place where we are united, together, finally.
Tears were once again rolling down my cheeks today, but for a different reason, because we are one step closer towards coming together to that place.
