By Mark Miner

We are a cold eyed nation
stone faced staring at the blaze
the chaff of our burning paper spoiling the sky
as we gaze into the flames of our finances

We are a quiet nation
around our tables in the evening
chatting lightly of suffering and woe
our neighbors do the same

We are a pensive nation
like children looking at the world out the window
wondering where this train is headed
and if we will like the people when we get there

We are a somber nation
as the smoke rises slowly from each disaster
searing and tearing our eyes
but we do not blink

We are a young nation
though the aches in our bones are of old
and we collectively cup our head in our hands
sighing, wondering how it became like this

Yet we are a patient nation
We have been tried before
and if we have our legs under us still
we can rise and resume the race.
By the grace of Almighty God.