sitting across the table from my dad,

cards in our hands, in a game of War.

when our cards matched we would laugh

and "I. De. Clare. War." 

 

four cards and four years later

he was gone in Iraq

leaving me, my mother and my sisters alone

and I waved goodbye to my childhood.

 

sitting across the room from my dad

my hands in nervous fists to keep me collected

my mother's voiced raised, my dad's words slurred

sisters kept their head down 

for even they couldn't face what the war had turned my father into.

 

my mother was the Queen and my father a Jack,

and she would take us away from my dad's deck--

away from his angry fists and drunken frustration

and I decided to declare war

 

war on the idea of war,

the petty result of what happens when two opposing forces collide

when one decides that another's ideals and beliefs aren't the same as theirs

 

i declare war on the romantization that death for this country is noble,

that criticism of America is treason,

and conformity equals safety.

 

because i promise you, America

that criticism comes from the cries of those who need help

the ones without work, without healthcare, without higher education,

without hope for our future

 

and diversity only brings to us a new perspective

a glimpse into a different world, 

so whether it be a different country or sexuality,

i want to be able to see that flag fly alongside our country's stars and stripes

 

i want to sit across the table from you, America

with all of our cards on the table, up for grabs.

and when i declare change,

do not declare war