Divided We Fall

The news media and politicians have been doing everything possible lately to pull us apart as a nation,

It’s all about dividing us into tribes and losing track of all the ways we are connected to each other.

They want to know the color of our skin, where we are from, and the nature of our politics. No one wants to notice that beneath our various colors and flags, we are pretty much the same with many hopes and dreams that fit anywhere. And the politics of things change faster than the weather. Anyone who hooks their hopes to a particular party for any length of time is going to have a difficult and frustrating life.

We should search in life for the things we have in common, not look for things we can use to cause hatred and division.

If we could stop for just a moment from trying to control each other’s lives because some politician or angry soul is trying to achieve power, we would begin to understand that communities and good neighbors are created by compromise and cooperation. Lawsuits, single party dictates and  denying the individual traits among all the broad members of our humanity does not change the fact that they exist.

We are letting the purveyors of doom and domination destroy the common core that makes America great and gives so much hope to the downtrodden nations of the world.

In my new book, Ball of String, I try to search for those things that connect us as a nation and as members of world community.

The following poem is about all the “scarecrows” that the power-hungry of the world try to use to turn us inward and afraid.

Thanks for reading. I can’t seem to put my photos on this blog (a major issue) but there is a great photo that goes with this poem in my book.

Regards,

Glenn K. Currie

Scarecrows

They are everywhere, flapping in the wind,

Dressed to accomplish their role.

In fancy suits worn like armor to intimidate,

Or in old sneakers and wifebeaters,

Complaining about restricted access.

Soldiers filled with straw, hang from hooks,

Under careful orders to do nothing.

Guardians for a negligent nation

That has spread its seeds in fields

Too fertile to go untouched.

Predators use deceit to elude them.

Monsters see their vacant stares

And pillage without proscription.

The breeze that rattles the tin pans

Only serves to call invaders to the feast.

Politicians and professors fill volumes

Praising the accomplishments of scarecrows,

Certain they will frighten away visitors,

With their hobo hats and souvenir sweatshirts,

While the ravens quietly eat the seeds.

Copyright Glenn K. Currie