Without my glasses

Worn… the scenes are vivid
Of angry protests,
Scowling faces,
And the sharp knife that rips the flesh.

The gash of hate that wounds our nation
Clear stares me in the eyes.
There’s no mistaking the gun he’s wielding,
As in another hi-jacking a mother dies.

Removed… the vivid scenes are vague,
The protests are joyful dances,
Smiles on every side
And the knife a lollypop shared between lovers.

Our nation healed and united
Flows free before my eyes.
There’s no mistaking the flag he’s waving
As proud above one nation it flies.

This view may be dim and the edges… a slight blur,
But this is how I prefer to view our nation…
…without my glasses.