Being an American abroad, I have gained and furthered my perspective on what it is to be an American, on what freedom means. Those words themselves, American and freedom, are such big concepts, such big ideas, not just in the States, but everywhere.
But, as another Fourth of July (American Independence Day) goes by once again, I question more and more the validity of these concepts, the validity of what they truly mean to certain people and groups.
Because the fact is, not all Americans actually want freedom for all people. There are so many throughout the States that don't give a damn about people that are homeless, impoverished or hungry. They don't care about people of color, the LGBTQ community or immigrants. The list goes on and on....
These toxic Americans don't actually believe that the word "American" or "freedom" should apply to some of these groups.
Some people have incredible optimism about the future, about change for good in the States. But myself, I'm not so sure....
All I know is that until ALL can have freedom, ALL can be treated equally, ALL can be treated with dignity, ALL can have access to affordable healthcare, affordable food, affordable education, affordable housing, then nothing will truly change....I hope that I can be proven wrong...one day.
(Side note - This poem is inspired by my own homeless schizophrenic brother)
He stands on the corner
He looks down the street
Sweet smells arising
So much cooked meat
Hot dogs and tri tip
Steaks and husked corn
Aromas inhaled deep
Memories now born
He closes his eyes
He licks his dry lips
He imagines the tastes
The memories do grip
He walks through the park
Families gather about
Shiny Sparklers in hand
Fireworks all fly out
The night they do brand
Shine light on his shirt
Fabric filthy and torn
Pants ragged with dirt
Red lights and blue ones
Pop bright up on high
Shine light on bare feet
No shoes are nearby
His dirty beard contrasts
With such pristine sheets
That families do sit on
As they laugh and they eat
He hears the band playing
Music marching in time
Great songs of freedom
To him they remind
A time he was well
A time of no pain
No voices inside
No trauma, no strain
A time of no hunger
As his stomach now pleads
No illness, no doubt
He had so few needs
His memory now serves him
It reminds him today
He saw it so clearly
This day they do say
They call it the Fourth
It’s America’s way
He saw it before him
Such freedom, so bright
But the man he is now
So full of blight
Only knows of his present
Only sees just the night...
