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
-
I see you will haggle over your wares
sell them to me for the price I ask
I know you have many gods
little and large, in stock -
first snow
flakes of a poem
fall on my page -
Shall we dip our brush
in the deep blue dusk
so we may paint joy
we stole from
the passing day
before it grows dark? -
all I hear is this song…
carried to my ears upon waves
as they ebb and return
a symphony of love
played on instruments
of the heart— -
sultry afternoon
in the vast cornfields
reaping gold
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Bravo, Neetu! Well said.
Thank you, Veronica.