I am a Patriot

I woke up in November to a country
that wasn’t what I was promised
by my parents
by school
by Plymouth Rock and
Strawberry Bank.

No more Lady Liberty,
no more freedom of Religion,
no more melting pot,
no more School House Rock America.

And yes, this was the Beautiful Dream.
A dream that wasn’t true for many,
but we could dream it,
All of Us

But there is no more love for Patriots.
(No, not the football team, or what the GOP
calls as Patriot.)
I’m talking about Patriots:
Those who love our country enough to march in the streets,
throw tea over the sides of boats,
to conscientiously object to their government,
the ones who say,
“NO!” one more time
because they wake up one morning to an America that isn’t their’s anymore.

I want to be a Patriot
It’s there in my heart
I want to free this country from an ideology and theology that kills people
and help it find it’s compassion again.

But it’s hard to be a Patriot
when half the country wants you dead because of who you love
or the color of your skin
or because of the religion that you practice.
It’s hard to be a Patriot when half the country believes that true patriotism
is bigotry and xenophobia.
It’s hard to be a Patriot when members of my own family believe that true patriotism is
bigotry, racism, homophobia, and xenophobia.

I want to be a Patriot.
I really do.
But how can I be a Patriot,
how can I even say the Pledge of Allegiance,
when the dream of America,
the Great Experiment,
is dead?

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