We're All Just Bones Anyway

I’m trying to remember the

last time the U.S.A. had a good

day.

It seems like a while ago,

really far away.

A single good day, no murders,

no shootings, no abductions, no rapes,

no theft, no shouting ignorance from

soapbox pedestals of supposed power.

I don’t remember when that was

when kids played outside all day,

when they rode their bikes to the

park unsupervised.  

Every day, tragedy escalates,

every day, we see the world in flames,

the rift between human beings gaping wide

like an abyss devouring everything

that was once good.

I can’t remember the last time I

didn’t see a terrible headline,

a venomous litany of hate,

outrage over the minutia while

nothing is done about the grand.

It’s foolish to think nostalgia is

reality. The sepia colored memories

of the past  are moldy photos in an

album in the attic. The now is what

matters in all its vibrant color.

Good days come when people

want to change. So we have to change

to make the new days into good days.

Stop being afraid. Stop using fear.

Stop keeping us from a good day.