america the dead

Tue, 02/14/2017 - 12:19 -- yondo

in my america, i’ve found that

there’s a darkness in it.

it’s grown darker these past few months;

it’s breaking apart at the seams

with no tailor nor healer to fix it.

 

lady liberty has gone and disappeared,

her tablet destroyed and her torch diminished.

blood has been shed on her trail

and it grows fresher everyday.

no one searches for her.

 

this sugar-coated poison is eating away

the america that it was meant to be:

a beacon. a refuge. a home.

 

in my america, it was meant to be

a beacon to call forth the damaged and broken ships,

a refuge to care for the hurt and forced deserters,

a home to shelter the ones making a fresh start.

 

i cry and fear for my america now.

as a child, america was beautiful to me.

as a teen, america was me, growing and improving.

as an adult, america was dead to me.

 

i wonder if my america still exists somewhere.

whether in the hearts of the people

or in the hands of some above us,

i do not know.

 

but i hope it will heal again as it has done before

and rise like the ever-changing phoenix,

a fiery eagle returning to inspire change and rebirth
and become the beautiful america that i once knew.

This poem is about: 
Me
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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