Will it last?
This feeling I have that at its core,
My country is better than the credit it gets.
Am I the only one daily amazed by the depth and breadth
Of simple kindness and humility before a common mortality?
Maybe it's where I work--at a civic center rather than an abortion clinic.
Maybe it's where I go to church--where people greet, not simply meet.
Maybe it's where I went to school--a professor I love could think lowly on his feet.
Maybe it's the family I'm in--family reunions bring everyone in.
Maybe it's the city I call home--a little sad but with deep wells of hope.
Maybe it's the young friends I have--they teach me everything old.
Maybe it's the friend that died--unscathed in my love by tragedy.
Maybe it's technology--I've never been convinced that it's a prison guard.
Maybe it's that my patriotism's bought and paid for by the goodies I get.
Maybe it's my health, my time of life, subconscious defenses, a little instability.
Whatever it is may it continue day by day until I'm dead,
For it does make a difference how I'm treated and the faces I meet,
And the sense of a purpose etched from the beginning of history,
A Promise Land, a place where people council in prayer,
To do better than exist and just get by,
