A poem for America’s Independance day

After 7-8 years in South Africa, I have a South Africa and am legally a citizen of the country but my ties to the United States are still strong. If anyone were to say,    ” do you consider yourself to be a South African or an American?” I might actually say, ”both”. There are, however, memories that remind me of the life overseas that I used to have, the greatest of which is the Fourth of July. Marches, ceremonies, picnics, baseball games and late-night fireworks mark this day, I still remember as a child staying up late to watch the intricate display of fireworks illuminate the Downtown Boston sky from my sister’s room Red, white and blue seemed to be on every street.

I have wondered about the complexities that surround this holiday recently. I mean, Americans are basically an international community of immigrants from several counties such as England, Germany, Ireland and Italy(not to mention Native Americans, Asia’s and Hispanics). They all make up the American identity, a melting pot of different cultures having to co-relate with each other. It is this melting pot that creates a sort of facade behind Independence Day

This is elaborately depicted through John Brehm:

Fourth of July

Freedom is a rocket, isn’t it, bursting orgasmically over parkloads of hot dog devouring human beings or into the cities of our enemies without whom we      would surely kill ourselves though they are ourselves and

America I see now is the soldier who said I saw something  burning on my chest and tried tobrush it off with my right hand but my arm wasn’t there — 

America is no other then this moment, the burning ribcage, the hand gone that might have put it out, the skies afire with our history.

Source: John Brehm, http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/243978

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