by Alice Lundy

The older we get, the more grows our capacity to hold two things.

To celebrate Thanksgiving, family, friends, festivities, and feast,

While knowing the brutality of the “discovery” of America:

Colonization through violence.

We hold hands with friends and strangers, bow our heads to the

Silence beneath the chaos. I miss—seethingly—the one who

Held a seat next to me, but now celebrates life beyond life,

On the other side.

We eat mashed potatoes, and want to throw a few

When we talk politics, blinded by crooks,

Cons, and heretics.

Juxtapose that with good, old-fashioned hope.

We give thanks and hope for more

Freedom for all, and time

With loved ones.

We are flattened by our person’s sudden death.

Yet, we let a kitty crawl into our lap and knit us

Back to our center.

We rejoice. Tis the season!

We call out to those who feel no reason,

Have been stripped of freedoms, or

Trampled at the bottom of capitalism’s hierarchy.

We know it’s all malarkey, and heartbreaking.

So, we break bread and let eyes twinkle across the table.

We raise a glass to gratitude—and getting

The awful orange dude out of office.

Cheers! Happy Thanksgiving!