Month of Poetry, Day 21

Waiting in Line to See the Liberty Bell

Head bowed
over Franklin,
I am a mountain
Before me,
a sea of youth
Behind, families
foreign tongues
Above them,
the scaffold-
shrouded cradle
of our nation

I think to roll
my eyes at this
flawed symbol
of a flawed nation

But when I
step before it
I want to kneel
and weep