Together divided unless united
Against some outside soul.
The nature of the warrior;
The nature of the land,
Washed away with intervening years.
The patience of our mother's hand
Was not enough to quell our goal
And in our own exasperation
We split and lost control.
The old fire has gone away;
Deep in slumber beneath this earth,
But ready to be awoken, we hope
And join the final fray.
Our hearts are open
Yet our minds are closed
To those things that matter most.
Freedom restricted
With just enough room to breathe.
Lower your face to the blood-soaked dirt
And listen to the way it used to be.
Listen. Learn. Accept your history
Of blood and battle. Honour and glory,
Shame and Guilt.
Every place has the same: their flaws, their faults.
Their history.
Author notes
I love my country, but it is flawed in many ways, as every country is. Maybe this isn't a poem about patriotism directly, only indirectly, but I feel that it shows love without blind acceptance. Maybe it isn't as fierce or as careful as you might like, and so I'm not sure if it will fit with your wishes, but this is me, defining my patriotism.
I am still editing this...
A contest entry
- We The Bloody People by ZeInkslinger.
1050 points, ended August 17, 17 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Give me your honest and CRITICAL opinion.
Comments
-
Patriotism arising during the dawn of a new age.
Very nice. wonderful work. I can fit this into patriotism towards my country as well.
God Bless,
ZeInkslinger
Adding your comment:
