The Great Divide

When you’re born

No one expects what’ll happen

As you go on

Times change

People grow

The world itself shifts

Fathoming what you’ve gone through

Is like trying to count the stars

Lowest of lows

War, strife, and chaos

Highest of highs

Riches, peace, and love

Our country

Ruled by the young

But one must remember

The elders

People who went through so much

So we don’t have to

All the history

Is charted by those older

Theirs status is important

Youth owes a lot

To the elders


This poem is dedicated to my Great Grandmother, who recently turned 94 years old. Though I may not be extremely close to her, my mother is. I write this about my inability to truly fathom all that has occurred in her life.


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