American Pride
POETRY
Dani FIelder
7/7/20262 min read
AMERICA!
Land of the free
and home of the shadows
that creep into the light
at any given time
reminding Americans and the world
alike of corpses buried long ago
in a shallow grave.
Land to the bones
of slaughtered Native Americans
and land to Columbused traditions.
Land to the rich white man,
where it's best to be all three,
but at least be two.
Let’s raise a flag, the Confederate flag,
in pride of a war we lost.
Let’s march on this free land
that was once plowed by enslaved
African people torn from their homes.
Let’s boast of international victories
but hide crucial parts of our nation’s history.
Let's celebrate the American dream
and forget about our reality.
Let’s teach our children pride
in this nation by memorizing and reciting
the American pledge:
“One Nation, under God,
with liberty and justice for all?”
We’ll recite this same pledge,
as America continues to feast
on the same strange fruit,
knowing the harvest is bitter,
but claiming the taste is sweet.
Using the remains,
we’ll create a bloody red wine,
to sip in the face of enemies,
domestic or foreign.
We’ll hide our past from our future
so the following generations, too,
see America the beautiful.
America, let’s make you great again
because in 1492, Columbus sailed
the ocean blue to find a New World
that was already owned.
“Go back to your country”
has become a new American slogan,
despite the fact that this land
is a land of immigrants
but was first invaded
by cream colored colonizers.
But forget that,
let’s go back to simpler times,
maybe a time before people
complained so much.
Using history textbooks,
let’s write of our unfailing,
unmatchable power
while leaving out
any part that does not
give glory to the great name
AMERICA!
“Oh say can you see,”
that this is all a facade?
Because really,
how can I take pride
in a nation that takes
no pride in me?
How can I take pride
in a country that takes
pride in everything
aside from its true history?
A history that leaves
minorities bruised
and battered after
fighting just to be seen.
A country that continues
to repeat the past
because it refuses to face it.
In a battlefield,
scattered with bodies
of all colors and backgrounds,
Uncle Sam raises
a blood red,
skin white,
and burnt blue
mirror to look at himself
and admire his beauty.