AMERICA'S PLAINTIVE MORNING SONG (a poem)
AMERICA’S WISTFUL MORNING SONG
If I had a soul it would be torn this year,
I am too large for that, too immaterial,
But I’m alive with raw emotions and proud.
My history, my heritage carved through chaos
Delivered me honourable and strong.
I should feel powerful today but I feel weak.
I’ve been the global helper of the feeble.
Today I’m frustrated with my own fragility,
Needing assistance, craving aid.
Not weak in assets, I am weak in will, cruelly disappointed.
Conflicted, bewildered, frightened as I’ve never been.
All my discoveries, my victories, my celebrations
Do not today alleviate my condition,
I’m torn on the inside, from the inside, ripped
As if warring with myself, out of control.
Odd to admit, I’m disoriented, my mind is spinning.
Good or bad, right or wrong, truth or falsehood,
I’ve been confusing them and now I am split,
Not knowing which way to turn, but must make a choice.
I ask myself “will I have a voice? Will liberty speak?
Will equality be fluent? Will life lecture death?
Will love be eloquent? Ever again? Will peace be persuasive?
I ache, I’m in pain.
© Ron Unruh, November 2020