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A vision

By Marc PerainoPublished 2 years ago 1 min read

I refused my inheritance

Of a nation.

Its wounds are ugly,

Its closets deep.

I hate your darkness.

Be better, my fantasy.

Take some more wine,

Watch some more shows,

But don't turn your head

Or you'll see all our sorrow.

Feel it,

All of it.

Let it wash over you.

That hotness when the first tear comes

And that strange relief it brings.

I now accept

What is rightfully mine.

I envision our healing,

I draw this sign,

I see this nation,

And I raise it high.

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About the Creator

Marc Peraino

Short fiction and poetry author in Honolulu, Hawaii.

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