The world I come from wasn’t like this

In the land where I grew up
Everyone knew that racism is ugly
Everyone knew that Nazis are evil
And that hate is dangerous
The land where I grew up took in refugees
Gave them hope and sheltered them from enemies
Offered jobs and schools and churches of all kinds
But not much was taught about slaveowners
Not much was taught about genocide
Not much was taught about how it came to be
Except to say that it was destiny
Just look at this beautiful land
At the mountains and prairies and
Opportunities
Look how free you are in this world
To dream about wealth and safety
Where not much is taught about empathy
And not much is taught
About propaganda

What's Left

I am a mother in Missouri
Where oceans used to be
Where mountains have slumped over
In their age
In their weariness
I am Minneapolis
I am Portland
I am Chicago
I am New York
Just as the sun rises each day
And sets every evening
My heart beats
My blood runs cold
I long for the comfort of caves
And the serenity of small streams
With every headline a flash of lightning
I ache for torrential rain
The kind that collapses trees
And blocks roadways
The aftermath crafts the path for us
So all that's left is one choice
That leads us to love
That leads us to live

Honeysuckle

Give me a guitar to strum
With a turquoise strap and twelve strings
One that's black and emerald green

I'd walk around with it barefoot 
But shoes are required
How am I supposed to feel inspired

The city lights are dim these days
The pavement is painfully gray
Unsung chords lead me away

I wander the forest and kneel in the moss
Sometimes I find honeysuckle
Sometimes a wasp