8 Comments

User's avatar
Michael G's avatar

They are the American Taliban.

Expand full comment
Gloria Horton-Young's avatar

36 Days to the Edge

Thirty-six days till the hour is set,

Until the ballots bear the weight of fire.

On one side, the hammering of hands,

Rebuilding brick by brick a country torn,

Healing with hope and tending wounds

That have been left to fester,

Wounds of steel and shadow,

Hollowed hearts clinging to fraying dreams.

This is the fight for the arc to bend,

For justice to rise, for love to mend.

But there’s a specter waiting in the wings,

A Party draped in Project 2025,

Where the bloodthirst whispers rise again,

“Let the streets run red, let violence reign.”

One violent day, one rough hour,

They promise the purge in power,

Chains clinking in the twilight,

And freedom—what was it?—

Tossed into the cold void.

Our cities are crossroads, our voices are veils,

Some pull the thread toward light,

While others unravel it in the dark.

We stand here—

In this fractured hourglass,

Grains of sand bleeding through broken glass,

Slicing through skin like history forgotten.

Thirty-six days to decide if we fray,

If we shred,

Or if we stitch the union again.

There are those who want one rough hour,

Who dream of clenched fists and shattered towers,

To unmake what was never theirs to begin,

To build a fortress where fear reigns within.

But we, we rebuild in the open air,

Hands dirty, hearts bare,

Holding the line for every soul

That still believes in more than control.

The ballots are anchors,

To steady us or sink us in the storm.

Thirty-six days till the tempest churns.

Will we choose the sun, or

Set the sky to burn?

Time ticks on.

America, what will we become?

Expand full comment
6 more comments...

No posts