The
City
Of
Our God
Is not draped
In red,
White and blue;
Bursting through clouds
Of glory
For just the few.
The rich, the haughty
Entitled ones,
Those who cry loudly:
“Make America Great!”
Calling the others
Someone, some thing to hate.
See it now surely begins
This sad Apocalypse;
They are “they” and we are “we”
D…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to A Poet's Journey to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.