The wind is leaning, whispers dark and low,
Across the fields of anger, seeds of woe.
A nation fractured, branches bent and brown,
Where leaves of unity have fallen down.
The frost of cynicism on every face,
Apathy's pale blanket in this empty space.
The river of dissent, a roaring tide,
Reflecting shadows where the eagles glide.
The hungry ghosts of conflicts past reappear,
Memories of summers, fields of blood and fear.
A nation built on stories, some of them untrue,
Haunted by shadows, whispering shadows due.
The sun, once warm, now casts a chilling light,
On fractures widening, shadows growing tight.
A sense of loss hangs heavy in the air,
As hope withers beneath burdens we must share.
But still, a stubborn bloom persists to rise,
A fragile flower pushing through the skies.
In whispered prayers, in shared tears shed,
A seed of unity, in hearts forever fed.
Though darkness falls, and storms may rage and blow,
The spirit lingers, whispers hope's soft glow.
For in the roots of unity, unseen and deep,
Hope whispers, 'Spring will come, and make the earth sweep clean.'
prompt to gemma: write poem like robert frost regarding the current political turmoil in the united states
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