Traveling in a vehicle not made by human hands
Across roads that are paved in blood and sweat
Going from one state to another
Across the land of the free but no longer belonging to its people
Watching through dusty windows
The lone houses and the large cities
From interstates to highways
To celebrate a ceremony of manhood
A graduation of people who have chosen to spend their lives for their country
Of people who bleed and sweat for a land that celebrates them too much and yet not enough
Crossing boundaries that have been marked only on maps
Listening to the music of the so-called âignorantâ
Because they are not stupid like people say
They know more than the others but their knowledge is of the land and the earth
Of traveling and hard work
Of stringed instruments and four-legged beings that move more beautifully than any man made machine
The others call them uneducated yet ignore their own ignorance of life
They know of machines and factories
Corporations and imitations
Folks around here sing of life
They sing of work and blood
The corporations and their evils
The tragedies of the past
But you do not see that when traveling through their land
You see the fields where people grow food for the many
The forests that havenât yet been torn down
The lone houses of hard workers
The larger towns of people considered poor by those who only know value in dollar bills
And as I travel down these roads that were once paths
I imagine a world in which everyone knew these things
Knew the joys of catching fireflies and releasing lightning bugs
The joy of making sâmores around a fire you made with your hands
Somewhere you are known more by name than by your past
Somewhere your future is more open than the jar of hummingbird food you set out is
I wish everyone knew the gossip passed around by family of people you have never met but know everything about
The way this one road turns but everyone takes it too quickly because they have places to be
How the same people you grow up with are now teaching the youth
How even though the past was ugly, there are stories that spark inspiration in heart
Like how your ancestors came from a country youâve never visited
How the person youâve loved forever is setting off to pursue âgreater thingsâ
While youâre still here because where else would you go?
I wish everyone knew these things, like how to make the best corn bread
And the only recipes youâll ever need are hand written on old paper and have sat in the same spot for years
Or how your parents earned everything you have with their sweat and blood
Or how to make the best sweet tea and how loud the crickets and cicadas are at night
The calls of birds you have always heard but never known the name of and the circle of vultures overhead as you eat watermelon with salt on your porch after your dad spent all day cooking on the grill
Everyone sees these people with histories rich with the blood of their ancestors and they look past that and only see the wrongs of the few and the good of none
They see accents and dialects foreign to them and they mock it
I wish everyone could see the beauty of this land, but the prejudice everyone has will not let them see past their biased opinions on things they know nothing about
Thatâs what I think about as I travel down these roads to a place that I have not been
