Dear Mr. President.....

Dear Mr. Obama,

Tomorrow, when you are sworn in, you will be faced with an intimidating host of problems. However, your work will be more than fixing the slew of issues left for you--you will also have to make new progress, and as you have reminded the U.S. citizens many times over, give us reason for hope. You will begin to create change for the better, which is the very root of hope. Hope doesn't lie in righting the wrongs of the past--it lies in the future, and the opportunities that the future holds. I, personally, want you to focus your efforts on foreign policy, the environment, and gay rights.

Our last president has left us enemies strewn across the globe. However, with you as president, we are being granted a fresh start. Our last three presidents have been from two families, and have served multiple terms, which means that we haven't had a new person, free from a legacy, in the White House in over a decade. You are our new chance, our fresh start, our way to show the world that we are done with the conservative, militaristic ways of our last president. We can show other countries that we are ready to coexist peacefully with them. We will no longer play police for the world, using it as our excuse to exploit these countries for monetary gain. We can now focus our efforts on helping those who are actually in need, and are asking for help, such as Darfur. On January 20th, you can take your oath, knowing that you lead a country that has the power to do real good for the world, and not look to gain or profit from others.

The environment is a major problem that we, as a world, face together. Although this predicament, concerning pollution, and global warming, has been growing over the years, the U.S. has recently been happy to push it to the back burner, as the economy has greatly overshadowed it. Of course, the U.S. wasn't helping the should-be worldwide battle against global warming, even before we had, supposedly, greater concerns than our ability to breathe. I want you, as president, to investigate alternative energy sources. Encourage citizens to bike to work, walk to school, to carpool. Declare a certain day each month as conservation day. Ask the citizens of your country to reuse their grocery bags, recycle as much as they can, and start a compost pile. Raise awareness about the amount of energy that could be conserved if the light was turned off every time a person walked out of a room. There are so many small measures that can yield great results.

Lastly, I encourage you to remember the Pledge of Allegiance when you take your oath tomorrow. Help us believe what we say, that we are, "One nation.....with liberty and justice for all." It amazes me that something so basic, a person's right to love and marry who they choose, could be denied in a country that claims to treat every individual with justice. Not once during the pledge have I heard anyone say, that we are, "One nation....with liberty and justice for heterosexuals." However, until we create equality for all, including gay marriage rights, we might as well say that before class every morning. As you restore the economy, and try to gradually end the war in Iraq, don't forget those in your own country who aren't being granted the rights supposedly promised to them.

Thank you for listening. I am sure that you will do amazing things, and I'm excited to be a part of this piece of history.

Sincerely,
Luna Adler

1963

when they bombed four little girls

in a church in alabama

there wasn't peace

1968

when martin luther king was shot

peace fell from the balcony of the hotel

he was standing on

and unraveled

like a ball of yarn

down the street

towards the past

there wasn’t peace

1980

it was meant to be 

a peaceful act

when john lennon

shook mark david chapmans hand

but then there was a gun

there wasn't peace

2001

the world trade center went down

the world mourned 

and then the world turned

and retaliated

and dishonored the dead 

by creating more violence

there wasn't peace

2008

peace was absent

in each of these years

but there is a year

and that year is now

and maybe now there will be peace

1963

when they bombed four little girls

in a church in alabama

there wasn't peace

1968

when martin luther king was shot

peace fell from the balcony of the hotel

he was standing on

and unraveled

like a ball of yarn

down the street

towards the past

1980

it was meant to be 

a peaceful act

when john lennon

shook mark david chapmans hand

but then there was a gun

there wasn't peace

2001

the world trade center went down

the world mourned 

and then the world turned

there wasn't peace

2008

peace was absent

in each of these years

but there is a year

and that year is now

and maybe now there will be peace

when they bombed four little girls

in a church in alabama

there wasn't peace

when they destroyed 

the world trade center

the world mourned 

and then the world turned

and retaliated

there wasn't peace

when martin luther king was shot

peace fell from the balcony of the hotel

he was standing on

and unraveled

like a ball of yarn

down the street

towards the past

it was meant to be 

a peaceful act

when john lennon

shook mark david chapmans hand

but then there was a gun

and a death and

there wasn't peace

how can there be peace

in the midst of these acts 

when there have been deaths

and terrorists and wars of retaliation

and corruption?

where is the peace

wa-2 final draft

A boy with wings, pale and flat, lay underneath the surface of the water. Metallic fish swirled around him like razorblades, slicing this way and that, drawing sharp, bloody cuts in the water. 

Above the boy and the fish, the water roared by, waves sandpapering rocks with their rolling bellies. The hostile sky, a lightyear away, swam dark and malignant, a cancerous tumor, spreading rapidly. Multiplying cells. 

There was a toadstool on the bottom. The boy’s toe gently scuffed it, the cap falling off in slow motion, pieces of mushroom cascading across pebbles. Floating away. To another place.

The boy with wings' hand was pinned against a rock, his fingers lean and flat, as if tacked to a bulletin board. Something fluttered inside them, consciousness awakening from a long hibernation, pale and rasping to be let out. His fingernails whispering against the rough, asking to be let free.

But she couldn't let him go, the girl perched above on the smooth stone, worn by water, fitted to her frailness like a throne. The princess of flat boys with wings. The princess of boys drowning beneath rocks. The pastel rays of light reflected off her gunmetal dress, the hem crinkled and brittle, stainless steel dripping down the sides of the rock, solid silver teardrops falling on the boys' wings. The waterline was rising. The boy was drowning. And she sat there waiting. 

"I can't let you go yet." The boy with wings was under water. Swishhh swishh. He was slowly vanishing beneath the swirl of liquid, the life leaking from his toenails, purple. "I can't let you go yet." What was she waiting for?

As the boy dissolved, he arched his blue spine, and slipped out of the wings. Snap.  Snap.  The elastic caught on his wrist, wrapped around his ineffectual thumb.  His thumb dissolved.

The girl saw the wings, ascending, sparkling beneath the grime, the grime from a drowning boy who no longer had wings.  The wings emerged from the depths,  floating like a lullaby across the still, inky water, the liquid that had cut rocks.  They fluttered, lifted off the water.  

They were caught on a whisper from a watcher who had seen a sister and a brother fighting over a pair of wings, fighting over two pieces of wire threaded with lace cut-outs, shimmering tantalizingly.  A watcher who had been these children, seen their covetous looks at the sight of these wings.  A watcher who knew that their mother had told them to share, a mother who was now a mother of one, a girl with wings.  

High above, above the girl and the wings, and the glassy violet water, above the storm, the watcher watched, watched his sister.  Watched her standing on a rock, watched the wings lift off the water and glide to her outstretched hands like a small bird.  The boy watched his sister, a girl with wings, turn and throw them back to the water, the water which swallowed the wings, rolling and crashing, shredding them against the rocks.  The boy who used to have wings watched the girl crouch above the waves, saw her face melt, the real tears, running down to the water, mixing and rolling.  The boy turned and saw that behind him, attached to his back, was a pair of real wings.

wa-2 draft 2

A boy with wings, pale and flat, lay underneath the surface of the water. Metallic fish swirled around him like razorblades, slicing this way and that, drawing sharp, bloody cuts in the water. 

Above the boy and the fish, the water roared by, sandpapering rocks with their rolling bellies. The hostile sky, a lightyear away, swam dark and malignant, a cancerous tumor, spreading rapidly. Multiplying cells. 

There was a toadstool on the bottom. The boys toe gently scuffed it, the cap falling off in slow motion, pieces of mushroom cascading across pebbles. Floating away. To another place.

The boy with wings' hand was pinned against a rock, his fingers lean and flat, as if tacked to a bulletin board. Something fluttered inside them, consciousness awakening from a long hibernation, pale and rasping to be let out. His fingernails whispering against the rough, asking to be let free.

But she couldn't let him go, the girl perched above on the smooth stone, worn by water, fitted to her frailness like a throne. The princess of flat boys with wings. The princess of boys drowning beneath rocks. The pastel rays of light reflected off her gunmetal dress, the hem crinkled and brittle, stainless steel dripping down the sides of the rock, solid silver teardrops falling on the boys' wings. The waterline was rising. The boy was drowning. And she sat there waiting. 

"I can't let you go yet." The boy with wings was under water. Swishhh swishh. He was slowly vanishing beneath the swirl of liquid, the life leaking from his toenails, purple. "I can't let you go yet." What was she waiting for?

WA-2 first draft

A boy with wings, pale and flat, lay underneath the surface of the water. Metallic fish swirled around him like razorblades, slicing this way and that, drawing sharp, bloody cuts in the water.

Above the boy and the fish, the water roared by, sandpapering rocks with their rolling bellies. The hostile sky, a lightyear away, swam dark and malignant, a cancerous tumor, spreading rapidly. Multiplying cells.

There was a toadstool on the bottom. The boys toe gently scuffed it, the cap falling off in slow motion, pieces of mushroom cascading across pebbles. Floating away. To another place.

The boy with wings' hand was pinned against a rock, his fingers lean and flat, as if tacked to a bulletin board. Something fluttered inside them, consciousness awakening from a long hibernation, pale and rasping to be let out. His fingernails whispering against the rough, asking to be let free.

But she couldn't let him go, the girl perched above on the smooth stone, worn by water, fitted to her frailness like a throne. The princess of flat boys with wings. The princess of boys drowning beneath rocks. The pastel rays of light reflected off her gunmetal dress, the hem crinkled and brittle, silver steel dripping down the sides of the rock, solid silver tear drops falling on the boys' wings. The waterline was rising. The boy was drowning. And she sat there waiting.

"I can't let you go yet." The boy with wings was under water, he didn't hear. Swishhh swishh. He was slowly vanishing beneath the swirl of liquid, the life leaking from his toenails, purple. "I can't let you go yet." What was she waiting for?