As a member of Poets And Writers Against Trump, I offer this piece as my contribution:
Who is this man who drapes himself in rhetoric,
Self-anoints his name in stars,
Binds the nation with a Gordian knot?
How did he get here, to this place on the Hillj?
A parachute sickened with money let loose from media drones?
And where are the saviors,
The promised ones with lips wet with mercy?
The honeyed words of the wild-haired prophet
Were choked to distant whisper,
Promised salvation lost on swirling desert winds.
False knights astride Hadrian’s tanks
Entered secret procession with heretic priests leading thin burros.
They tore at the wounds, with fingers of hypocrites,
All while tightening the noose,
Pretending it jewelry.
Remember who you are, oh Nation of Lincoln –
Children of the soil,
Descendants of slaves,
Offspring of immigrants.
It is your collective breath, exhaling righteous indignation,
That manifests truth.
Your collective numbers that rip masks off of charlatans.
Tell me you recall the Gordian knot.
Show me your resolve,
Tempered like steel,
That can slice through the ligatures and return
We The People.