We stood for something
The world believed it
That something is now lost
How strange, we tried to be great.
Last breaths squeezed out, live on camera
Simple and indifferent
Like your thumb on an ant
They don’t have feelings
You must “dominate” protesters
The president says to governors
A man named Chauvin heard those words
Before they were tweeted
Who looks weak now?
Executions are televised
Though revolutions still aren’t
“People are in the street looking for a brighter day”
Safer being tear-gassed than sitting on your couch
Or going out for a jog.
Death by virus or death at the hand of The Law
Disproportionately taking out those Of Color
What’s the difference
When the powers that be look on
Warning darkly about “November Third”?
BBQ and beer make a mess of face masks
Don’t you know, you pussies who wear them
Let’s bring baseball back
We need something to celebrate.
The title Rebirth of a Nation references both the poem’s subtitle, with the Fourth of July being the nation’s birthday, and, in an intentionally ironic fashion, the racist propaganda film of a similar name.
The title also represents the author’s hopes for this pivotal moment we are in. Will we push forward and bring about a rebirth? Or will the current outrage and solidarity recede once again?