Prayer of an Expat
I hurt for America and the land I was born.
I long to see the patchwork land
And from those faces I am torn.
It is about my home. It is not about me.
The union of Americans
Is home and that it shall ever be.
Even though we die in a valley we dare,
Life made today will be
Bequeathed to the children we bear.
Run not, curse not, but rightfully fight.
We shall not, cannot, must not
End the realness of this God-made right.
No phantom fantasy –
No vague mystery –
I live it proudly!
Though the fool may not see it,
She our gatekeeper gives
The gift to the unappreciative.
We are not taller, stronger, smarter,
Nor richer, fatter, nobler.
We serve; for serving is our honor.
No divided days, nor peace nor peril
Shall let this promised land
Falter beneath the weight of hate or evil.
Humans kneel to those whom they must.
Good and Bad, beware and bow
To thee our Maker, the God we trust.
Jared Travis 