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250 Candles

Tonight we light birthday candles in the sky
noise like weapons fired with bursts of colors bright,
patriotic music grounding us in remembrance of
two and a half centuries come to pass.

What should we celebrate tonight?

Should we blow out a candle for those
who have fled oppression to find work here,
who faced long journeys, anticipated rejection,
a different language to make their way to start again?

What about a candle for Americans told they don’t belong,
don’t deserve a place here, their skin too dark,
their sexuality condemned, their religion abhorrent,
all failing to check the boxes cis, white, Christian?

The candle of women’s rights will be a difficult one,
a trick candle needed to deflect and confuse,
where intent is malicious but sold as wisdom by those
who say empathy and emotions are dangerous.

Let’s not forget a candle for our mountains and rivers,
for sacred lands carved in time, not deed or dollars,
sold in pieces to bidders behind closed doors,
our history rewritten so the theft feels like progress.

A candle for our ancestors who fought on foreign soil,
sacrificed all in bloody battlegrounds,
now white markers on green fields with tiny flags -
this one stays lit.

Two hundred fifty candles representing years granted
in a wish made by dreamers with the signing of a document;
the candles out, the cake consumed, the party over,
all that work and now just a mess to clean up,
if we can.

Poetry by Melinda K Zarate