No, Don’t turn around now

You hear it now, don’t you?

That scraping sound beneath the anthem,
 that crack beneath the stars and stripes,
 the hiss of something hungry 
slipping through the seams of a nation
that once swore never again.

You hear it now.

No, no…Do not turn around

No…
face it.

Face the thing you fed with flags with grievance dressed as patriotism,
with slogans painted red, white and blue
 while hatred smoldered quietly beneath.

Face it Victor Frankenstein

Because you said it wasn’t there…

When they warned you about the smoke, 
you laughed at the fire alarm. When they spoke of rights unraveling,
 you called it…hysteria.
 When they named the danger, 
you called them enemies.

And some of you looked away.

Some of you folded your arms and said,
 “Politics isn’t really my thing.”
As if indifference were innocence.
 As if history has ever spared
 those who simply chose not to choose.

You said, both sides.
 You said, my vote doesn’t matter. 
You said, it won’t be that bad.

The thing behind you smiled.

Do not turn around Now

Face it.

Face the mothers crossing state lines 
for care they once took for granted.

Face the families wondering
 which child, which marriage? which identity
will be placed on the chopping block next?

Face the neighbors deported,
 the books removed, 
the teachers silenced,
 the judges appointed to make cruelty permanent.

Face the poison.

Because it was never only meant 
for people you hated.

That is the oldest lie.

The serpent never asks
who voted for it 
before it sinks in its teeth.

Now factories close.
 Prices climb.
 Veterans lose benefits.
 Farmers drown in debt.
 Workers lose protections.
 Storms grow stronger while science is mocked and suddenly the fire has reached your porch.

Now you ask,

“How could this happen?”

No.

Do not turn away now.

Do not avert your eyes 
because the face in the mirror 
is harder to bear than the headlines.

Stand still.

Look directly at the creature.

See what resentment built.

See what fear elected.

See what apathy permitted.

See what patriotism became
when it loved power more than people.

Because love of country is not worship of a man.

It is not chants.
 It is not hats. 
It is not vengeance disguised as virtue.

Love of country means refusing to burn the house down
 simply because someone else lives in it too.

Yet here we stand…

in the smoke,
 beneath a flag singed at the edges,
 watching liberty cough ash into the wind.

And still, behind us,

something waits…

Something wearing our colors.

Something speaking in our voice.

Something that grew stronger
 every time we refused to look.

So don’t turn around…now

Face it.

Name it.

And if there is still enough country left to save,

begin there.