The Long Game

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.