Fighter

by Elise Zavadak

He was a man of color, one with pride in
the face of discrimination by race, religion,
every detail of ethnicity mocking his being,
his entirety. They called him a mammoth beast, kites
for ears and a Muslim outcast, associating with the enemy
based upon a name, Hussein, while he stood
with pride like a lone ranger
proclaiming his allegiance, his faith, his liberty.
They took away all of his rights in criticism.
Burn the constitution, who believes in it anyway,
as they target freedom of every liberty?
He stands on a platform of discretion, in front of the world,
in front of his critics, his fans, his family.
Man who drove up from the bottom,
sweating like a banshee, fighting with teeth of ivory,
foam exploding from his mouth for his presidency, and he made it,
only to have the threat of it being torn away,
slammed in his face in every minute, in
criticism, in praise. When it’s his turn
to come to battle, his aim is spot on, B10,
aircraft carrier down. He is a ten-round, bloody Ali,
a soldier, a patriot, an advocate for a nation
in a vulnerable position. Doesn’t he try,
like the forefathers of its past? This man,
with a nation he believes in, standing on the side
of the road, waiting for his pass, waiting
for the go ahead to continue for change.