The American dream never had a “for sale” sign.
We dreamed of candles instead of pyres
Carillon instead of cannons
Bells ringing in every church and temple.
We dreamed of grape arbors and cornfields
Rivers full of salmon
Not mountains leveled for coal.
We dreamed of voting, all of us.
With no king or owner or patriarch
To beat us silent.
We never dreamed of a law
That made a corporation a person
Or homelessness a crime.
We wake like sleepwalkers
From nightmares of stolen gold
Bloody acres named for murdered tribes.
All here together now
Fighting the fire
Our dreams of freedom are never for sale.
—Jill Charles
