A Quiet Divide
The hum grows louder —
a tension beneath the anthem,
a dissonance the flag can’t mute.
Faces blur
into sides,
into threats,
into strangers wearing familiar skin.
Words crack like ice —
too fragile to hold the heat
of truth anymore.
We breathe the same air,
but with suspicion,
as if trust itself
is contagious
and we forgot the cure.
Our shared ground
fractures beneath headlines,
fault lines widening
with every “us”
and every “them.”
Democracy trembles —
not from war,
but from neighbors
who no longer believe
the other deserves
a voice.
I fear
the quiet victories of division —
how silence sharpens into distance,
distance into dismissal,
dismissal into hate.
To be alone
in a crowded nation
is to feel the lights flicker
on the idea of “We the People,”
and wonder
how close we are
to darkness.
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