AMERICA

I see glimpses of peaceful unity

In the generosity of a neighbor,

The kindness of a stranger,

The services provided by community.

But lately, too often, too quickly 

my visions of the beautiful become murky,

A dream I cannot remember.

I cannot breathe. I choke

On dark fumes.

My head, shoulders, eyelids droop from fear fatigue.

A malignant dread of doom

Infiltrates my cells,

Magnifies my worries, 

Kidnaps my serenity.

The ransom - in the hands of madmen.

It is then that I am grateful

For wise questions that expand possibilities:

 "What if this darkness isn't the darkness of the tomb

  But the darkness of the womb.

  What if America is not dead 

  But a country

  Waiting

  To be born." 

           Valerie Kaur

            (Ted.com)

(For Poets United)