There is no greatness where there is no simplicity, goodness, and truth.- Leo Tolstoy

Red, Black, and Blue

Red, black, and blue.

Hurt, injured. Broken?

Oh, where is the grace that we asked God to shed on thee?

Red, black, and blue.

Wounded, are we still free? Can’t it be?

Although this impact is so strong, is there a way to mend the wrong?

Pride is falling; there is no satisfaction in a distortion of truth.

In the absence of hope, we are weeping.

Red, black, and blue.

Resist and be strong is what I hear and see.

Struggle against what?

Were we ever complete? Is there something we can stitch?

The divide is wide. Can we really stand side by side?

Home of the free, land of the brave.

You are . . .

red, black, and blue.

I believed in you.

Crushed, I am black and blue, too.

Defective and separate, are the boundaries too wide?

My home sweet home.

Wounded, are we still free?

Don’t want to know, don’t want to see, my home sweet home torn apart.

Yet, was this home ever whole?

Was it a delusion?

Was I blinded?

Have we been imagining this progress? Is truth deflected by our own liberal aspirations?

Stand beside her and guide her.

Can we?

We believe these truths to be self-evident. Do we?

Oh, light from above, how I wish I believed you did shine?

Red, black, and blue.

Oh, say can you see?

Fail me or be true?