America

Poem of the Day:

America, written by a close, long time friend of our family,

Hannah Robertson, age 16

"This one I wrote and used for the Talent Show at AWANA. It is supposed to be from the point of view of a personification of America. Personifications are an older concept of creating a person and using it as a representative of a nation. The most well-known to most Americans is Uncle Sam, or possibly Lady Liberty, but there are a couple more like Columbia, Johnny Reb, and Tommy Yank that have fallen out of use. Other countries have them as well, such as John Bull, Britannia, Marianne, Mother Russia, and others. It’s really interesting."

America

I am a million voices roaring

In a thousand languages

For freedom.

I am the crack of a musket on a bridge

As my sons stand in defiance of an unending empire.

I am the heat of a capital burning

And the heat of my sons’ rage because of it.

I am the explorers gazing over the Western Sea,

In wonder of their journey

And anticipation of my expansion

Far beyond the mountains.

I am the wildfire rumor

That sweeps from shore to shore-

Faster than any horse, “Gold in California!”

And my children run to make their fortunes.

I am the clamor of cannon

That my sons are killing each other with-

By I am also the clatter of chains falling

And my dark children singing, “Free at Last!”

I am the rhythm of a railroad hammer on a gold spike,

And the chug of an engine traveling across a continent.

I am the hammers of industry, ever moving, ever faster,

As my sons beat for me a heartbeat.

I am the one hearing the distant thunder

Of war across the sea,

A note promising Judas silver for betrayal,

And the explosion of a torpedoed passenger ship.

I am preparing for war,

My people are angry;

I fight for a time, and the war is terrible,

But my sons are brave.

I am the joy

When the guns are silent,

And the jubilee on Armistice day.

There is peace.

I am the decade of swing and jazz,

But I am falling into hard times.

I am the shovels in my son’s hands,

working for the New Deal.

I hear the thunder of War Across the Sea again.

The Unending Empire is ending, slowly,

The Reich of the Broken Cross is snuffing her light.

But I am an ocean away, I turn my back.

Until I am struck, dishonorably;

My ships are sunk, my sons- Gone.

Gone because of an Empire of the Rising Sun.

I am angry, the sleeping giant awoken.

I fight for years, long, hard years,

And the Broken Cross is abolished,

The Empire of the Rising Sun is weakening.

I deal two final blows, and it is over.

But still, I cannot rest;

The Cold Iron Nation rises against me.

I am weary, and cautious,

So I retreat to my forts and wait and watch.

I do not fight, except twice;

And each time I weep for my sons.

But the cost of open war is still higher,

So I watch and work and wait.

I am victorious; Cold Iron has fallen,

Freedom has won.

I am shocked and angry,

And so very sad. My children are dead.

The towers fell on them because

Evil men stole the wonders of the sky.

I am justice and vengeance,

I rip through the desert to find them.

I have found one, I have found the other,

And they are angry, but I am unmoved.

Justice is served. There is peace.

I can rest in the silence.

I am content to be a fortress of freedom

And for now all is well.

I am a city set on a hill

Created to be a light

To shine into the world.