Clouds in the Corn

The United States is about to conduct an impeachment trial of the president; the third in the nation’s history. Somehow I knew, three years ago, that this is where we would end up. The social and cultural divisions in the country have hardened the political camps and the spirit of compromise, the essence of our democratic system, is all but impossible to achieve. A cloud has settled across the land as Americans retreat to their respective sides and await their collective fate.

There are clouds in the corn.

The sunlight begins to fade.

The crop is ripe for harvesting.

Shadows climb between the stalks

As leaves of grace begin to bend,

Bowing to the will of the weight

Of an oppression cloaked in white,

Rather than embrace the fresh wind

That brings growth to the fertile field.

Row upon row marching to the sound

Of cold fear in the dreadful silence.

And all the voices we once heard,

Uplifting cries carried on the breeze,

From one corner of the field to the next,

Resounding in a united chorus of

Common purpose and common cause,

Now silent in the shadows of the clouds

As they await the reaping they have sown.