~ The Thing ~

We call ourselves Americans, because this is our home.
Although we’re all a mixture, from many parts unknown.
The thing about our heritage, divinely mixed and matched,
Is our multiple components, a divided equation of maps.

The thing about this land we love, defending Her in war,
Against a strain of blood flow, through veins across our shores.
Each of us a melding pot, ancient genes combined.
The thing is how can prejudice, exist in human mind?

Unbeknownst to one who hates his neighbor down the block,
Different in his skin, his manner, made from universal stock.
The thing about, good, better, best, doesn’t exist in mankind,
All is equal in His eyes, good, better, best, exists in man’s mind.

The thing about judging another, isn’t something we have a right,
No one ever gave us the thing, to hold others in a judging light.
The real thing is, we are one, each a piece of a bigger part,
Making one big thing with all of us, sharing that thing in our hearts.

 

COPYRIGHT©2004 BONNIE TORRENTE