By Beth Osborne

America, you are a patchwork.

Yet, you’ve tried to forget

what you’re made of.

 

You began with audacious claims –

Equality

Liberty

Happiness as a pursuit

 

Living up to these has been a grasp

And a miss

A step forward

A freefall back

 

What is America?

 

She’s been called many refrains

She welcomed yet erased

A beacon of salvation

A place of such misery

 

She made a social contract,

But kept changing the language,

And who could sign.

 

America is

A mirage, a dream

A charade, a promise

 

America is war and secret ops and

Also, very much a gun

Rebellions, succession, a North and a South

She has always been in angst,

 

The country, built on no god or king

Keeps letting the lords and the elites weigh its scales of justice

 

She’s been to the brim with hate

Despite her melting pot

 

She’s made so many fight for the chance to simply exist.

There have always been two faces:

A heart and a rot

Janus plunged in duality, beginnings and gates

 

An assaulting contradiction whose true identity is still unknown

America, a land stolen, never discovered

The founders took it, and although they declared their independence from tyranny, did create some of their own.

 

It’s not un-American to point out the flaws; it’s wholly patriotic to do so.

 

America is broken.

shackled.

no home for many.

 

Is this who we are?

As the Constitution fades into the machine of hate

The question becomes, when do we, the people, all the people, reject this purgatory of injustice and inequality?

 

America is greed over humanity.

Will it always be?

 

Aren’t we more beautiful

When brave means

We stand with a whole heart that beats with hope

If we lose that, we’ve lost it all.

So we are here together for something far greater than we can imagine.

It’s more than a day or a moment.

It’s a movement

 

America is

What we say it can be

 

And the only thing that should reign

Is equality

We are no longer the resistance; we are the rebellion.

 

Rage, rage, Thomas said, against the dying of the light that cast such a closing shadow.

America is in the moment of her most consequential fight.