That space; that space between phrases, between writing, between language. That’s the space I have so often occupied in my attempt to wrap both brain and morality around the rhetoric, the hate, and my grief for an America that perhaps despite my feelings, I wasn’t so intimate with afterall.

Photo by Luke Stackpoole on Unsplash

Maybe part of the pain is due to the fact that I now find we weren’t even on a first name basis. She’s transformed herself into something or someone I no longer recognize. Perhaps this is merely the way she’s always been, having now modified her behavior to those she longs to mimic, those she longs to embrace, those in which she snuggles the most closely to her infinite bosom.

Perhaps maybe she battles next to me, sword in hand, her swift smite of resilience against those that tarnish her name, offering proof to those who fight along with her of her strength, her never ending fortitude; a fortitude that cannot and will not be bent, swayed, nor broken.

Perhaps she’s torn; torn to defend herself against those who attempt to place her into a box, a box in which neither the black nor the white outshines the other.

So I wonder. Will she stand and fight? Will she have the diligence, the might and the still, beautiful, skies to stand strong for her values? Will she morph into a land, a haven that is truly safe for all who inhabit her velvety soft soil? My friend, Karen mentions God; God outside of the Bible. How would she appear? Would she be willing to step out of the shadows from which she has hidden? Would she allow us to see her face, casting the false, manufactured version of herself into the depths of the mind of humankind in which she was birthed?

My America does not consist of “good” genes or “bad” genes. It doesn’t select worthiness by manufactured division lines such as political party. My America contains people; people who are all Americans. My America consists of those who have placed their trust in America’s protective arms; a trust that offers shelter and refuge. My America doesn’t celebrate bullies, greed, cruelty and mockery by those in positions of leadership. It celebrates those that inhabit its beautiful lands. It celebrates people; people who want to make both country and the world a better place. 

Yes, that is my America. That is your America. That is our America.