Our nation walks a tightrope –
a razor’s edge,
a string of pearls.
Fear laces its combat boots,
stampedes across our collective consciousness,
blind to the lines
we draw around ourselves.
We toss and turn, sleepless
in its unsettling wake.
We are all in this together –
nothing separates us but the words
we choose to believe.
In our house, we believe
that lace is stronger than steel,
that linked arms weave a lifeline of promise,
that Democracy is an obligation
rather than a right –
a long game
played for the generations
who will never know our names.
I live among friends
who see the world as I do.
My love is a threat to no one.
My child will have food to eat tomorrow.
I walk the streets at night
wondering why I have the right
to be unafraid.
I have done nothing to earn it.
How can I demand hope and justice
if I shield my eyes from the truth?
My safe cocoon of ignorance
will be the downfall of my privilege.
I can no longer turn my head
in good conscience
and let others bear the burden
of witnessing.
The day of reckoning comes
and we discover
that ours are not the only beliefs –
that days continue to dawn,
that Truth may not be
so self-evident after all.
The day after
and the day after that
and the next –
counting and recounting days.
How many
until we are certain,
until our rightness is inalienable?
And even then –
what becomes of the Other?
This is the choice and consequence
of being fully human:
the ache of awakening
to oneness amidst dissension.
In the long game, there is no Other.
We feed our children
with our choices.
In our fear lies our fragility,
in our courage lies our hope.
