How Long the Happy Table?

   
We dined in splendor,  
The food was great, the ambiance amazing.  
The sun was shining, and we could see  
The bridge on the bay in the background.  
   
We talked of entrepreneurs,  
Of innovation, and of better lives for all.  
And then, the mood turned unexpectedly.  
   
The man next to me remarked,  
"I could never live Blue,  
Red is the better America,  
I'd never return to that place."  
   
I replied, "How could this be so?  
Could we not look about under this shining sun?  
Can we not see what abundant inclusion and diversity can create?  
Do we not sit at a happy table in a good place?"  
   
He said, "If you prefer,  
To blister under a scorching sun, I would understand”.  
The volume in my head increased and I explained…
that if he subscribed to a community  
That pays for walls before food assistance,  
A place that prefers guns over civility,  
A home where it is fitting to draw on the man knocking on the door, rather than offering assistance,  
Then he had every right to flee on his morning flight.  
   
I warned that we are defined by our choices,  
I warned that turning back civil progress has consequences.  

These things might make some of us feel superior but would never set all of us free,  
These things might make us unrecognizable to any civil standard of what America has for so long dreamed to be.  

I warned that the city of light sitting on the hill grew dim,  
The shade of light can “turn a deeper shade of pale”
Or even a redder shade of hell.  
   
I asked him to reflect again on our happy table,  
To take a picture of the bridge on the bay,  
And to withhold his judgment a little longer,  
To reflect on the choices that choose our path.  
   
"I will," he said. "I will."  
   
And we finished our meal in silence.