Promises

Weren’t we supposed to be

Different?

Didn’t we fight wars

Didn’t we sign papers,

Promising we were something?

Something

New?

But papers are just ink

And quills

And people with privilege to hold them.

But wars are just boys

A few men

Willing to fight for what they believe

For a few years.

That promise

Is lifetimes.

It’s calloused hands building

The frame

And cities of children learning

To build the walls

And the bravery to climb

To put the roof on,

It’s the resilience to do this a thousand times

And the kindness to do it for a hundred neighbors.

I thought that’s what we signed and fought

For,

We have to prove it meant more

Than men from centuries ago

And quills from museums.