This…America
A Metamorphic Miracle.
Be Coming. Believing, Beginning,
Bountifully Brilliant.
Being…America.
Her scars of the past cut deep into our DNA.
Her destiny dauntless.
Her memories guide the future with clear eyes & fairness.
She remembers the stolen deferred dreams of her ancestors.
She remembers the buried broken promises faded in the future.
She keeps her fingers crossed when she wishes on a star each night.
She smiles as she leaps into the Unknown unafraid.
Hoping, Praying, Holding
On to the essence of eternal active optimism.
Where all isms die in the sunlight of our ancestors’ answers.
Where all isms die in the sunlight of our ancestors’ answers.
Her children sing songs
Of countless courage, lasting love & heartfelt hope.
Her children walk, run & play in egalitarian sunlight.
They live lives Liberty never imagined.
She parents her children
With possibilities, passion and peace.
She wisely walks in whispering shoes
Facing dangers fearlessly.
She envisions and dreams
The daydreams of the dead
A Metamorphic Miracle.
Be Coming. Believing, Beginning,
Bountifully Brilliant.
Being…America.
Armed with fierce vulnerability & multiple perspectives.
She holds Harmony in both hands.
Innocence & Wisdom
Wrapped in melanated skins of compassion.
She shares intimate organic knowledge
of unity, respect, love, commitment & unapologetic joy.
This…America.
Is real, raw, relevant, reliant.
She stands with women who look like my grandmother.
She watches over children who run in different shoes.
She marches with workers who speak multi-languages.
She respects teachers, dreamers, thinkers
Sitting in classrooms touching tomorrow.
She is gracefully strategic, gracefully strategic
Mindfully compassionate of her humanitarian powers.
To live free. To be free.
To govern with tools of trust and truth.
Her history tells her story of endless optimism & covert struggle.
Million and millions of voices sing of hope and tomorrow.
Mountainsides mammoth with pride carve out her name.
Seashores giggle with sparkling sands that spell America.
Farms stand abundantly ready to nourish her hunger.
Her story is old,
And
Her story is not yet told.
“We too, sing America.”
We too, protect America.
We too, love & respect America.
A Metamorphic Miracle.
Be Coming. Believing, Beginning,
Bountifully Brilliant.
Being… America.
Her best friend is named Hope.
They walk down dirt streets
Native ceremonies once danced upon in sacred celebrations.
Strong rhythmic beats still linger
Whispering in the wind.
Whispering In the wind.
Whispering in the wind.
Twins Trust and Truth keep her “feet to the fire.”
Wars and battles honor her ceaseless courage.
History books can’t wait to tell her story.
This… is why the world believes.
This… is what the world daydreams.
Living the dream and reality of Democracy.
This… Skin.
This… Hair.
This…Face.
This…Hope.
All are Metamorphic Miracles.
This…America.
My home.