Wrangell resident Lynn Maxand submitted this letter and poem, written by her niece, Karye Pruitt, of Washington state.

Sometimes it feels like we’ve forgotten how to grieve together. Where sorrow should unite us, too often anger takes its place. “Divided” was written from watching neighbors turn on neighbors, of seeing joy where there should be mourning, of feeling the weight of hatred where love once united us together.
These words are a reminder that every life has value, that respect for the dead is respect for the living, and that the freedom we cherish depends on compassion more than conquest.
This poem asks us to pause and imagine what healing would look like if we chose grace over bitterness.

Divided
A voice was silenced, swift and cold.
A story ended, no chance to be told.
Not by fate, nor nature’s hands,
but hatred burning through our land.

The news rang out and voices cheered.
Where grief was right, mocking appeared.
What sickness blinds their soul so deep,
that laughter rises when we should weep?

Once we quarreled, but still we knew,
we shared one flag, red, white and blue.
The tide has changed from friend to foe,
and neighbor’s hands bring grief and woe.

The grave demands only respect,
but mercy’s voice we now neglect.
To cheer a death, to mock a fall,
wounds the heart that binds us all.

From fields where fallen soldiers lay,
to shores where heroes faced each day.
They gave their lives, both brave and true,
to keep this nation strong and new.

Shall we dishonor what they gave,
by dancing on another’s grave?
What freedom stands, what dream survives,
when hatred rules our daily lives?

Rember this, a life is prized,
if not held dear, we won’t survive.
Every grave we mock with cheer,
pulls down the freedom we hold dear.

Lift the flag and bow the head,
mourn with honor for the dead.
Compassion rise where anger grew,
rebuild this nation to what we knew.

For only love can heal this land,
Not sharpened tongue or vengeful hand.
If hate prevails, our fate is cast,
A nation broken, gone too fast.

But if we turn, if grace we show,
then from these ashes hope can grow.
And freedom’s song will rise anew,
united under red, white and blue.

Katie Pruitt
Washington state