By: Linda M Crate
it’s the morning after,
and i feel so numb and broken;
like my wings have been
not only clipped
to the ground—
how could hate win?
why did we let
i’m so sick of the praise i see
of a bully, of a man who openly despises
women; the disabled, lgbtq, latinos,
muslims, and blacks
a man who thinks women working
literally don’t know what to think of
my fellow americans,
but it’s something deeper than disappointment
something more fiery than rage;
they tell us what is done is done and to band together
but how can we?
the moment we pull together
he’ll divide us in hate
over something that doesn’t even matter,
and i wish i lived anywhere but here;
because america doesn’t feel free or safe anymore.