I walk by a lake and look at the clouds. I see the leaves losing their hues of Green. I remember what it was like when you walked beside me. Now I am not sure how I feel. I hold an empty space inside that I am trying to fill. I look to recapture the old magic that we shared. I stop and stand by an old stump as I watch the lake lap at the shore line. I close my eyes as the breeze touches my cheek and I imagine that it is your hand, as I fall back into old memories and try to fill a void that was left in me when you went away.

The buildings are crumbling yet people live in them. The sidewalks are covered with filth but people still walk on them. The roads are filled with potholes but people still drive on them. There is a gloom that hangs thick in the air, but children are still at play. A neighborhood that once was as soon will not be, is more than the buildings, the sidewalks or the streets. The people are the fabric of the community and in some of them there is still hope. Though poverty and violence may seem to be a way of life, light still shines in the dark corners. Laughter and kindness is shared between neighbors and comes from children. So despite the grim picture that others may paint, I saw many things but most of all I saw hope in the streets.

I hobble around when once I could run. I am disregarded but I still salute the flag. I gave some and some gave all, yet I went forward and would do so again if called. I am weary of battle, but few will take up the cause. Sacrifice and love of country to me, even over the screams of burn it all down. I kneel before God not in protest. I stand as best I can when my anthem is played. I pledge my allegiance to the flag and observe a quiet moment for those who cannot. I watch as people spit on my way of life and a tear fills my eye. I want to march on, but it is hard as I sometimes hurt. I am a broken soldier, fix me and I will sacrifice in your place while you sleep comfortably as I face the cold and dangerous night.

Hands reach out for a piece of the pie until the pie is gone. Many want but few contribute. Hard work has become a sin and demanding more is the in thing. Some are getting older and can no longer contribute to the ***. People who give nothing and those who have achieved nothing want their fair share even if it takes food out of another person mouth. Slowly the blood is drained from the turnip and not much is left but a husk. The clamoring does not cease as still more pile onto the gravy train. Then the train runs off of the track and a big heap of defeat is left. Still they cry more, give me my share without so much as a let me help out.  This cycle goes until one day the true outcome is revealed, those who pushed others to cry for what was not theirs have the needy bound in chains of ******* and now it is to late and the imagined want is real as gimme gimme gimme turns into the sound of the whip and oppression.

We are all different, no two are exactly the same. If only in subtle difference in some cases, we are not replicas of each other. Our skin may be a different hue from our brother or sister, but underneath we all bleed red. We may not agree on everything but we have common hopes and dreams. Humanity may be diverse, but we live on the same world. So how can we divide ourselves so readily? Some have enough some have very little. Some have more than they need. Forcing one to give to another does not make things equal, only when we learn compassion will we willingly share. Humanity is not just the color of skin, it is a common bond between us all. Until we learn to live under one blue sky and one yellow sun in harmony, we will not have peace no matter what we look like.

There is no Gold but they are still mining it in Alaska. There is no oil, yet they are still pumping it from the ground. We need more taxes to feed the homeless, yet the poor are all around us. Global warming is killing the planet so we will invest in alternative energy, then we get our wind turbines and solar panels from China. Every time we turn around, we are told about the problems that money can solve. If everyone would just pay their fair share how wonderful it could be. We give and give until we have no blood left in our veins, even a Turnip can go dry. No matter how much seem to spend, nothing seems to change. So where did all of the money go ?

When the cold water pours out of the sky and drenches us, let me warm you. When life showers you with difficulty let me hold you. When the lightening flashes and the thunder roars let me comfort you. In a winter squall or a spring shower let me adore you body. Hold me close in the silver drops and let me be entwined with you. Let nothing stand between us as we join our souls in the cleansing down pours. Just let me love you in the rain.