A Lantern in the Dark

I hear America rising--
not in the clash of voices,
not in the echo of division,
but in the quiet moment between.
The world has drawn its lines in fire,
etched names into stone,
turned neighbors to strangers,
brothers to foes.
Yet even in war’s relentless march,
a glance lingers, a hand falters,
a moment holds.
Not as enemy, not as ally,
but as something older than the fight.
The cold wind howls with hunger,
the weight of winter settles deep,
but beneath the frost, the roots still hold,
beneath the storm, the lantern still glows.
For have we not stood in ruin and built again?
Have we not lifted light from the hollow of night?
Have we not found warmth in each other’s hands?
The war rages, the world divides,
but love is a quiet defiance,
hope is a whisper that refuses to fade,
and somewhere beyond the noise,
America still sings.