by Brian Francis
Where is this place called America?
Where freedom rings and justice reigns.
Where equality shares a common hope
And compassion trains a steady hand
and lifts all tired souls like a tide
The Lady still stands by the doorway
lighting the way for those lost in darkness
beckoning with the promise of freedom
faithfully proclaiming Liberty for all
Where is this place they call America
the golden valleys and great forests
small patches of remembrance
promised to the future generations
snipped and carved into nonexistence
by the greedy business concerns
equal to a soul it was proclaimed
The giant must be sleeping again
waiting for some call to crisis
perhaps dreaming of its perfection
where America becomes itself
a pleasant dream
Where is this place called America
where can it be realized and when
Only within ones heart I am told
in the way we live our freedom
guaranteeing the same to all
The best that we praise – self sacrifice
giving the gift and demanding honor
flag draped caskets and caissons
and the discharge of rifles
of one, seven, seven, and six
There is the place called America
in our pausing to honor the flag
embracing the promise and creed
a willingness to share in the load
shh, quiet the giant is sleeping
Copyright ©2021 brian francis
Wordsmith: At The Forge 