pride

A poem about the shifting focus of “patriotism”, clashing with the extreme of politics in America and how it is possible to still love and want what is best for the country and its people while being able to criticize it, to acknowledge the flaws in order to fix them. Written 7/4/20.

A photo I took years ago, messing around with lights in the dark around Independence Day.

The pride I have
Is dangerously low
Not just for the country
But for me at home,
As I sit and wait for a parade to start,
In which people place their politics
Alongside a red, white, and blue heart,
A flag of exclusion hammered next
To a flag of pulsing independence,
A brighter love
Against
The willful separation of
The white picket fence.

I fight to keep
Some hope alive
In a desperate time,
I am here, to meet
With arms out wide,
In one hand nothing
But a wish for yours,
In the other the dressing
For your meal, to pour,
If only you’d leave
The room for more,
I can’t help but see
It shouldn’t all be war—