“I grew up in a house called America,
There was a crack running clean down the floor,
I played soldier on guard over my half of the house,
Because the wings of the house were at war.
“I’m writing this letter to you: America,
The millions like me who feel like a waste,
I’m writing to say that I love you;
I can’t recall when we abandoned that phrase.
“Yes, you reading this poem,
Yes you whom I may never see-
You are America and I cherish you,
For who you are and who you were born to be.
“I still dream of what we may become:
A land that is both just and free,
Though at times it seems that the dream is undone,
When I wake up in reality.
“Still, I will never reject you,
There is nothing that won’t make you home to me;
Because by the living God who holds you,
You are my family.”
— reblogged from Binky’s Desk http://logresshallriseagain.blogspot.com/2016/10/a-house-called-america.html