A patriot is defined as a person who vigorously supports their country and is prepared to defend it against enemies or detractors.  A person who vigorously supports their country, and is prepared to defend it against enemies or detractors.  Am I prepared to defend?  to break out my weapon, and kill, to take down the detractors, the enemies, the haters and threats to the American dream, the American dream.  So it seems, is just another casualty of a heartbroken humanity.  Can't you see?  Can't you see, from sea to shining sea, America, the beautiful, my country, 'tis of thee, give me.  Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning, to breathe free.  Yearning to breathe, free, oh, say, can you see?  Can you see? The straw that will break this country's back, has long since been pulled from the haystack, and it's only a matter of breaths before the human spirit chokes to death, on the fumes of fear and oppression.  Inhaling lethal doses of toxic transgressions, gasping for air, and coughing up, despair.  You see, we.  We, the people, have been suffocating from the suppression of creative expression, while kids are gunned down in acts of aggression, bred from a culture rife with depression, and no direction.  No direction.  Just a Petrie dish of mental disease and no reprieve. A world of pain.  A world of pain where pills are popped and bombs are dropped in rapid succession on more and more victims of dispossession who have fled to the land of the free.  That's us, people.  For a haven.  of desperately needed safety.  My country, 'tis of thee.  My country, 'tis of the sweet land.  of slavery, and lashing, and the sweat of black bodies, dripping over, native skulls, and feathers, and bones, and braids, trudging along a trail of tears, now paved over by inner city streets, where another mother wails for her child  shot dead at her feet.  And we the free.  We, the free, rushing through the streets of Lady Liberty, trapped, In self induced catastrophe, consumed, consumed with consuming, And the overwhelming, ever compelling ego, yelling out, Look good, at all costs, because looking good is gold.  And I am rushing west to get mine.  Mine, mine, mine, mining for the shiny gold of doing it right, saying it best, lest you think less of me.  Me and my imaginary enemies.  The enemies within and enemies without, I have no doubt, we are caught in the split.  The split of separation, consciousness, the great divide, the cavernous pit, the death place of the human spirit, where we the free, the not so free my country.  'Tis of thee.  Sweet land.  of PTSD.  And the delusion of democracy.  Sometimes I find it hard to be proud of my home country.  But, you see, I love the American dream.  We're just our own worst enemies.  It's the war within we need to win.  And let's not pretend we're better than them, the leaders that lead through half truths and suppression.  I have a confession.  I need to confess, to get weight off my chest that sometimes I forget that I'm part of the threat.  I'm fighting my own war inside.  Demons dance with fear and pride on the floor of confusion.  I have no delusion that anger and blame don't still course through my veins, and that I'm part of the problem and not the solution.  I have a confession.  When elections are rigged from voter suppression, and the body of woman is attacked with aggression, and the collective stories just one long book of transgressions, I lose hope we'll ever see.  Peaceful union in the land of the free.  Israel, Palestine, North Korea, Vladimir, it's not just here.  It's... everywhere.  Every... Where?  It's you against me.  Me against you. Right against, left, right against blue.  You hate me.  I hate you, rockets red glare, bombs bursting in air, ashes, ashes, we all fall.  Down.  Down.  Down I get down on my knee.  And look up at Lady Liberty.  Please show me.  Please show me how not to recoil at the chaos playing out on American soil.  I love my country.  But sometimes it's so very hard to love.  From above.  She looked down at me, smiling so very tenderly, and said, Chin up, little one.  The torch is still lit, fueled by the power of the human spirit.  So as long as you're here, hope is alive.  Now look me in the eyes and take my spark.  You know how to find your way out of the dark.  The depths of despair from which it seemed impossible to climb.  You've made this journey, time after time.  And along that journey, it's important to name that you, little miss, have caused tremendous pain to your lovers and family and your closest friends, and, darling, even when you knew better, you did it again.  But it was your wounds that were running the show.  You had no control, trying just to stay safe the only way that you know.  And so the same goes. For genocide and slavery, social and emotional separation and greed, you're just a melting pot of wounded beings.  But this land is your land.  And if there's anything you know, it's weaving dried up straw into shimmering gold.  America's just been through a dark night of the soul.  Anyone been through a dark night of the soul?  Anyone?  Then you know what it takes to become fully whole, and the exquisite privilege of making diamonds from coal.  I hope you're proud of the evolution of your soul, and the work that you've done, and someday maybe we can all be proud to be American.  And our beloved flag can mean something new, because if it's true that we're all one, then we're not just one love, we're also one wound.  It's easy to point fingers, to blame and to shame, to not truly get from where we all came from where we all came.  Whether Christopher Columbus or the British king, American Indians or African slaves, Kim Jong un, Mr. Epstein or Donald T, we all came in so innocently.  As equal descendants of PTSD.  With parents that did the best that they could, which oftentimes was not very good.  A lineage of tragedy.  My country, 'tis of thee.  Rooted from a family tree, that needs a lot of therapy.  So roll off your high horses of finger, pointing in blame, and see if you can see that we share the same pains.  We are all a little bit right.  And we are all a little bit wrong.  And we can self destruct in righteousness or harmonize our victory song.  If this is a struggle to believe, and a divided country is all you see quite understandably.  Remember that we've all been tricked, we've been deceived, taught to believe that we can't be the answers that this country needs.  So it's up to you.  It's up to me.  It's up to us.  It's up to we.  It's up to here.  It's up to now.  And even if we don't know how.  We must harness our passion and turn tremors of hope into earthquakes of action that ripple out across the globe and shake us, wake us, do not forsake us, show us how to be the evolutionaries that raise a flag.  We are proud to wave that truly represents the home of the brain.  America can break the cycle of violence and abuse.  To heal its wounds and have patriotism mean something new.  A grand salute to a flag whose stars shine sparkling and bright, because we have transmuted darkness to light.  The United States of America, the most powerful country in the world, not because of the economy and the military, and what we see on the surface, but because we lead the world in transforming pain to power to purpose.  One where pop culture pops into a culture of transparency, instead of plastic surgery, mainstream TV broadcasts holistic healing that teaches us about feeling, everything there is to feel, in the most powerful country in the world, it is safe to reveal the deepest pains that need to be healed.  With love.  And care and tenderness.  On the breast of Lady Liberty, an embodiment of divine femininity, wrapped in a flag whose military has long since retired.  Because in a country who leads from an inspired citizenry to truly be the best they can be, where natural genius make up the puzzle pieces of our economy, and immigrants are welcomed on to the team because we know that we can do together.  What we can't do alone.  So I offer thee, a reimagining of what it means to be free, and a flag that stands for the miracle of healing, Whose broad stripes and bright stars are a reflection of our collective heart, That beats to the sound of courage and might, a perilous fight, Giving proof through the night, our dark night of the soul that was divinely designed,  To weave straw, into gold.  From genocide, to together we rise.  From slavery to top tier integral theory, corporate greed to the triple P, this land was made for you and for me, to turn grief to glory, to write a new story that is all for one and one for all, with interdependence as our clarion call.  We are the stripes.  We are the stars.  And we can recreate our flag into a symbol of which we're inspired to brag.  Because the rockets red glare aren't bombs, but egos bursting in air.  And when we sing our victory song, we know how far, we've come along.  It is always darkest before the dawn.  Oh, say, can you see?  By the dawn's early light.  What so proudly, we've healed, what so proudly, we've healed, that is a flag.  I am inspired to pledge my life to.  To call myself a patriot, one who vigorously supports my country, and is prepared to defend it, against enemies or detractors.  American Eagle turn Phoenix for the people.  Ashes.  Ashes, we all rise up.