She who stands sentinel at the gate of our land,
Constructed lovingly from steel, copper, mortar and sand,
So revered by Americans, Native and not,
Is only a symbol for the Angel of our better nature.
Unlike her image, trapped by the feet forever
The real Liberty knows no borders
And flows through the hearts of Earth’s humble,
In contrast to what he Welsh poet Dylan Thomas (1914—1953) wrote: “Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” I wanted to offer you dear people a more positve and up-to-date
Fellow condemned: Can we let down our petty competitive veils for a moment And admit what we have had in common? Yes, we've all had moments of joy that kept us enduring The grief, The failures, The disease, The loss of our senses — of smell, of sight, of
On the day after Thanksgiving I sat in front of our gas log in the dark of early morning, as the valley outside filled with fog and my neighbors' rooftops took on the expected white coating of frost, and I felt grateful for the warmth and for being able
I love how President Biden acknowledged the results of the 2024 US Election and I love his promise to allow a peaceful transition from his Administration to that of President-elect Trump. Much like the "ideal" Christian does, President Biden is "walking the walk" not just "