One night in a dream, I was in a baseball stadium. People were on the field holding a large American Flag, stretched out flat. Suddenly, it ripped down the middle.
I awoke and thought of baseball as being an all-American sport and the ripped flag as being our country torn over economic, political, and social issues. Then I saw a picture in my mind of a rope weaving through grommets and uniting the torn flag back together.
Poem: Julie Skinner
United We Stand Divided We Fall
(2) Our kids and grandkids hold safety drills. While we pretend that nothing is wrong
Some take a knee because they disagree when they hear our country’s song.
We march and we walk amid venomous talk, like a Kipling’s East and West.
We’re going downhill against our will, while we each think our side is best.
Our spirit is worn and our name is scorned, like this, we’re sure to die fast
But there’s common air from here to there, so think and breathe...RELAX
For the blood we bleed’s universal, like those who choose to defect,
Roots run deep and all families weep, yet the answer is simple ...RESPECT
Let us differ in thoughts and our customs, but listen and let each other know
That despite all the chatter, all lives matter, our differences are how we grow.
So my arms are open and I’m eagerly hoping, you’ll at least try doin the same
Because being exactly the opposite, is a form of being the same.
Please talk to me and I’ll talk to you, and together we’ll make our own plan
You see, for each of us the last two words, in America are “I Can.” by John Sprague