Years ago, in 1986, I wrote a piece entitled 2/27/86. That piece, for SATB choir, two trumpets, and percussion, was a response to my father’s passing on February 26, 1986. There was a desperation in that piece, for sure. But there was also a rising hopefulness as the piece progressed and came to an impractically ascendent conclusion (a single high note played by an unseen clarinetist).

This morning, I’m afraid I feel that same depth of despondency as on February 26, 1986; a sense of desperation I’ve have only felt then and on November 8, 2016.

I am deeply shaken by our citizenry’s blindfolds.