I took her, my mother, to the urns
The encrusted, burnished,
Living relics
Of our past
We stood in line, transfixed, in solemn wonder
And respect
At the power of the principle,
The fidelity to right,
And to the dignity of man, that they embodied
And heard their voices speak
Back to the Greeks
And Washington,
These urns have served us well
And wars have been fought over them
By people who have chosen death
Over servitude
"Preferable morir de pie, que vivir de
rodillas" remember that?
With the country torn asunder
She insists
On visiting the urns
To honor those before us
Who gifted us that right
Our voice
I took her, my mother,
To vote...
1 comment:
A persons vote means nothing, if it doesn't stand for change. Change is something that many people fear!
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