May 10, 2019
Photo by Krasimira Banova

My Country and I
A Poem by Hilde Oleson

My country and I are both sick.
Not long ago we were both at the top of our game,
Respected, even loved, working hard
To make the world a better place.
A scourge swept in silently.
Just quietly took over piece by piece.
At first it was just broken rules
(Maybe we were wrong. We didn’t really need that, ) we said.
Oh just another bump upon my lumpy skin.
But as the days go on, one lump become a dozen
Until grown into a tangled itching mess of skin cancers
Leaving me a different person, unable to escape the pains.
My country finds indeed
Perhaps we did need those old rules
That slid so silently from our lives.
The whole country itches, tries to scratch, to ease the pain
But cannot reach the source.
I am told this cancer is not lethal ,Will not kill me,
But like my country –I will survive.
This country has struggled through hurtful times
To emerge stronger and sometimes a bit wiser.
We all pray for that.


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