The Bed We Made

'Instead of coming together,
We are ripping ourselves apart.'
By the seams we tear,
As this nation we built unravels to strings.

Here's the secret,
Hidden in the open air.
Never have we been together.
That is the exception!

A hole in the cover we so desperately hide.
A freckle hidden in makeup,
Skins tones clashing to be one,
Cultures dying,
Languages forgotten -

Truth is but a fiction.
Sewn together by crafty fingers,
Gifted with a grin to the young,
A blanket to cover up what has been done.

We are not coming apart,
We are throwing off the covers!
And when the light sees underneath the bed,
Of homegrown terrors and fiends;
May we make something new.

Something fragile.
Something messy.
Something with holes.
Something beautiful.