We The People
written by: Julie Pratt
I hear the robin’s call through an
open window, mug of coffee in hand,
husband and hound asleep.
My mind wanders and lands
on the popular notion that
“the arc of the moral universe is long,
but it bends toward justice.”
As a child, I watched Dr. King speak
these words on our black-and-white TV.
I rely on them now for comfort
in dark times. But are they true?
And if they are, how long is “long?”
What can I do with the time I have left?
Sam joins me in the kitchen,
nuzzles my hand. I grab his leash.
We start down the street, stop to talk
with our favorite neighbor,
the queen of dog treats, who just
lost her husband of sixty years.
How will she come back from such a loss?
I have no advice, but it doesn’t matter.
She wants someone to listen,
to share her memories,
honor her grief. And I do.
This afternoon, we picnic with friends
at our church, admire the gardens
we tend, mounds of coneflowers
the color of cherries,
bright green pods swelling
with milkweed seeds.
We dream of the monarchs
who will stop here on the flight
back to their winter home.
How long can they survive the ever-rising heat?
Everything feels sacred now.
I take nothing for granted.
Tonight, my phone pings
as we get ready for bed—
my niece sending photos
of her two young children,
decked out in shorts and shirts
of red, white and blue,
eating hot dogs from the grill,
waving tiny flags.
What does the future hold for them?
I think about our country on
this date long ago, when
the founders agreed to unite—
an imperfect union, to be sure,
but strong enough to grow
a democracy, one that now
hangs in peril, the future
falling on us, the people.
I resolve to keep reaching for justice
and leading with love.
Head on my pillow, I gaze
out the window, imagine a comet
crossing the moonless sky.
- We The People - September 15, 2026
- Letter Writers’ Brigade - September 5, 2025
- Song for The Weary - March 31, 2025
