Claim your birthright: time.
Brutal, shaking truth is a refuge.
Truth clings to the hours
and minutes. In the lit cave
of too much and too little,
worry will torture you awake.
Bless, then, the unsung bones
of your ancestors. Whoever
they were, their hopes were
unpoisoned. They combatted
constant field glare, acquired
winning weapons to protect you
from an elemental gorge.
Written beside “A New National Anthem” by Ada Limón
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