America

Inspired by Allen Ginsberg’s America

Forgive me, America
For I have let you sin.

Watched as you dropped
Nuclear bombs,
Atomic bombs,
F-bombs on twitter.

Watched as you
Told my best friend
To go home.

Told her
She cannot stay,
She cannot work,
In the concrete jungle
Because she is from Taiwan.

But still, she must change her name
Yu-Chien is not American enough.

America,
My favorite colors
Are red and blue.
Do not tell me
That has nothing to do
With you.

No,
I do not want to talk about
Fake news
Or making you great again.

I want to talk about
The immigrants
With burning skin
And an aching desire
For the American dream
That you drown in tears of gas.

I want to talk about how many greens
You are feeding
The soldiers
As if they are children
On the playground playing pretend.
What happens when they come home
To sounds of machine guns?

No, I do not want to talk about
The wall.
Aren’t we already divided?

America,
We need to talk.
No, this is not time for a smoke break.

America,
Listen!
Put down the Dunkin Donuts
And turn off the News.

Let’s talk about
9/11
How people fell from buildings like birds with broken wings.
I know, my Uncle survived
But a part of him did not.

America, I know you didn’t want to go to war
So why did you?
Do not tell me it is an eye for an eye
You know better than that!

America,
Let’s talk about
The number of Brock Turners
You let roam the alleyways
His pants around his ankles
And her blood dripping from her thighs
But she was asking for it, right?

America,
Let’s talk about
Trayvon Martin,
Eric Garner,
Sandra Bland.

Everything is black and white
To you.

Let’s talk about how history repeats itself
War. War. War.

America, stop spying on me!
I won’t erase my poem
Zuckerberg is no muse.
Do not tell me what to think—
I do not want your propaganda.

America, China is rising.
Face the music
This is your curtain call.
America,
I do not mean to hurt you
The same way you have hurt.
I am a part of you, after all.

But so is the single mother breastfeeding in public,
The Muslim being forced to take off their hijab,
The boy who loves a boy,
The disabled man you call retarded,
The 1,100 college students that feel a darkness
That makes them dive into one.

America,
I do not mean to spite you,
To hurt you—
But I cannot love what is not love itself.

America,
Stop your crying.
Wipe the dirt from your knees
You were the one that made this mess

Meghan Nelligan is a creative storyteller based in New Jersey with a passion for mental health awareness. Through her creative work, she touches upon personal as well as societal issues. She graduated from Syracuse University with a degree in English and a greater love for writing. Currently, she works as a freelance writer for various companies and manages her own poetry account.