250 years ago, she was born, a young
Nation that rocked the worlds foundation,
She grabbed the British crown
By its jewels and wrestled till the crown fled back
Across the Atlantic Ocean humiliated,
the once “United Colonies” rose its flag under the bombs red Glare, the glare that lit up the night sky—
And still, the flag was there waving wild and free
From the state of Delaware in 1787 to
The Rise of Maine in 1790, to Hawaii
In 1959—the last star of our imperfect
union.
Our union grew with her arms stretching out to territories
just beyond our shores—
Guam in 1889, the glorious rise of
Puerto Rico the same year,
American Samoa in 1990, but her hunger for more was strong
The Virgin Islands has been purchased in 1917—
Northern Mariana Islands out of the U.N
it came under her control in 1986—
She gained more land but lost her soul
In the process yet with every reach atrocities came,
the Atrocities of Uncle Sam that painted her hands
with blood, A forsaken guilt for a nation still growing:
The Trail of Tears that removed
Indigenous people from their land— to
The Sand Creek Massacre in 1864
A Day of bloodshed on her precious
Californian soil as the California
Genocide swept through, the ground
Drank “Wine” that day and swallowed
As the ground pleaded to the heavens to cover
It’s eyes and the eyes of the creator in the sky
Blood was shed just beyond our shores in the
Village of My Lai Vietnam,
the hands of a nation holding a dying heart
as it continued its atrocities
From the thick jungles of Vietnam down across
The sea to the Philippines, Where
She cloaked her bullets in the name of freedom.
A war declared “for peace”—
Yet villages burned, children shot
The “water cure" poured into mouths
that dared to resist.
Bodies piled in Balangiga.
A nation once promised liberation
Was handed occupation instead.
A scapegoating event as masses of
Mexican Americans including American
Citizens are forcefully deported in the 1930s
Blamed for stealing jobs,
accused of deepening
a nation’s growing desperation
in the thick of the Great Depression.
The dehumanization of Japanese immigrants—
a nation so entrenched in fear of an attack within
that it caged its own,
internment camps holding the people
they feared,
not for guilt,
but out of paranoia.
And now— “SAY THEIR NAME,”
as people push through day and night,
marching, kneeling, shouting—
challenging a legal system
that keeps on failing.
George Floyd.
Eric Garner.
Michael Brown.
Breonna Taylor.
And too many more.
Yet history will not forget, as
Innocent lives arrived down south
carried on ships, shackled by chains and
Forced on the fields of cotton,
As the air is filled with—
Screams,
Songs of Praise of the souls whose
Spirits aren’t crushed for it is the hands of
The enslaved and the immigrants our
Democracy is built on, their blood and sweat,
And above it all our homes are on-top
Of hidden bodies
From a distant nightmare to a new one—
the Trump Administration has returned.
Fear is the new order, as our friends, colleagues,
and family are snatched from the streets by
Immigration
the modern Gestapo while Congress is rendered
pathetic and weak, failing their oath to the Constitution.
Republicans dodge their own constituents
a shameful retreat, as they huddle to pray
for the passage of “The Big Beautiful Bill”
that stripped millions of their healthcare.
Yet they are Christians? “Truly, I say to you,
as you did not do it to one of the least of these,
you did not do it to me.”
And the Lord will not sit complicit
on His throne. He will pass judgment—
not just on the nation, but on our moral
souls.
And what of the Court—
nine robed arbiters of truth,
seated beneath high ceilings
but unmoved by the cries below?
They stripped the womb of its rights,
gutted the ballot,
served corporations
and cloaked it all in “constitution.”
They sit as gods in marble temples—
but they do not hear
the prayers of the people.
Their silence is not holy.
It is cowardice
in disguise.
So, this our dying melody,
A flame that is dwindling in
The crown of our lady of liberty,
As France paints it on a wall covering
Her face, the cover of shame cause
The nation that she represents is losing
It’s freedom and democracy as July 4th
Could be the day a nation died under its
Own divide—
So, this is the democracy our
Founding father built, only to watch
From the heavens above as the lady
Above the capitol dome sees the cracks
On her rotunda but her senators are blind
And shackled to “fall in line” …
Will liberty mourn her own death—
or did we kill her long ago and forget the funeral?
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