Let every American, every lover of liberty, every well wisher to his posterity, swear by the blood of the Revolution, never to violate in the least particular, the laws of the country; and never to tolerate their violation by others.

As the patriots of seventy-six did to the support of the Declaration of Independence, so to the support of the Constitution and Laws, let every American pledge his life, his property, and his sacred honor; let every man remember that to violate the law, is to trample on the blood of his father, and to tear the charter of his own, and his children's liberty.

Let reverence for the laws, be breathed by every American mother, to the lisping babe, that prattles on her lap; let it be taught in schools, in seminaries, and in colleges; let it be written in Primers, spelling books, and in Almanacs; let it be preached from the pulpit, proclaimed in legislative halls, and enforced in courts of justice. And, in short, let it become the political religion of the nation; and Let the old and the young, the rich and the poor, the grave and the gay, of all sexes and tongues, and colors and conditions, sacrifice unceasingly upon its altars.

While ever a state of feeling, such as this, shall universally, or even, very generally prevail throughout the nation, vain will be every effort, and fruitless every attempt, to subvert our national freedom.


- Abraham Lincoln, January 27, 1838
  Address Before the Young Men's Lyceum of Springfield, Illinois

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

For my dad and my dog Hailey

Thank you both for teaching me about graceful exits. Let the dance go on.



End of the Line

(The Traveling Wilburys)

Well it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well it's all right, doing the best you can
Well it's all right, as long as you lend a hand

You can sit around and wait for the phone to ring (End of the Line)
Waiting for someone to tell you everything (End of the Line)
Sit around and wonder what tomorrow will bring (End of the Line)
Maybe a diamond ring

Well it's all right, even if they say you're wrong
Well it's all right, sometimes you gotta be strong
Well it's all right, As long as you got somewhere to lay
Well it's all right, everyday is Judgment Day

Maybe somewhere down the road aways (End of the Line)
You'll think of me, wonder where I am these days (End of the Line)
Maybe somewhere down the road when somebody plays (End of the Line)
Purple haze

Well it's all right, even when push comes to shove
Well it's all right, if you got someone to love
Well it's all right, everything'll work out fine
Well it's all right, we're going to the end of the line

Don't have to be ashamed of the car I drive (End of the Line)
I'm glad to be here, happy to be alive (End of the Line)
It don't matter if you're by my side (End of the Line)
I'm satisfied

Well it's all right, even if you're old and gray
Well it's all right, you still got something to say
Well it's all right, remember to live and let live
Well it's all right, the best you can do is forgive

Well it's all right, riding around in the breeze
Well it's all right, if you live the life you please
Well it's all right, even if the sun don't shine
Well it's all right, we're going to the end of the line

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Monday, March 19, 2007

Waking up: A poem of grief

My walls are drenched in blood.
You cannot see, perhaps -
I did not see it either.
The blood appeared one day,
And now I cannot turn away.
I wonder - has it always been
Here? Dripping, pooling,
Stinking… all around me?

A mother weeps
Over a lifeless, torn - beloved child;
While far away and not so far,
A shriek of anguish carries
On a wisp of smoke;
A small, still body in a burned out house.
Who paid; and what exactly was this price
To keep my backyard 'safe?'

I was a fool; and surely I
Was raised on lies -
But that is no excuse.
I had a mind, but never asked;
Who really built these walls?
How many children’s bodies lie
Crushed and broken -
Buried under my foundation?

Who really paid the price tag
On my chair, this bed, this lamp?
Who really bled to make me free?
I drank the corporate Kool-aid
Every day; drank every drop.
“Land of the free, home of the brave;”
But no one ever said
That we were good.

My walls are drenched in blood.
My food is black with ash.
My water, thick with oil.
And I - just waking up,
Can finally see, and smell and touch…
And cry, at last, for what I am;
For what my country
Has become.

-Maire

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