It’s up to You, America
here we stand
not one Nation under God
fragmented under
a heaving flag
weighted down
by broken parts
shredded by knives
with rusted edges
blunted, yet sharp
in grievances
old cracks and ignorance
faulted lines below
the glossy glaze
held together
are now frayed
here we are
back in time
rolling in dismal strife
wondering how we got to this
at a loss for a healing fix
as in all things we have learned
there’s seldom a road to permanence
each generation carves its path
this one’s up to us, America.
© Neetu Malik
Some of Neetu’s Books
-
Walk me through
your caveshow me the petroglyphs
the stories
you have laboriously pecked on the walls
with your hammer stone,
carved in the light of a lantern
where shadows cast gloom. -
I am but dust
a grain of sand
blowing whichever way
the wind blows
in the universe -
You were the guest at my table picking on the corners of the table cloth, fingers nervously folding and unfolding mutilated pride.
-
Neetu Malik’s poetry is an expression of life’s rhythms and the beat of the human spirit. She draws upon diverse multicultural experiences and observations across three continents in which she has lived.
-
I tread softly in your world mindful of my footsteps
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Bravo, Neetu! Well said.
Thank you, Veronica.