I write this from the same place most of us sit, a wobbling middle seat on a train that feels like it’s racing around a blind curve. On one side, passengers cheer every lurch as proof we’re winning. On the other, riders brace for derailment and shout warnings. Somewhere up front, a handful of engineers argue over who gets to pull the throttle while a child cries in the aisle, afraid and unheard.
That image, the child no one hears, is what finally pushed me to finish a poem and a song called “No Kings.” The poem arrived first, raw and spare, after I saw footage of a little boy calling for his mother through steel bars. I could not un-hear his voice. The song followed because I needed melody to carry what words alone could not hold.
Why Speak Now?
Silence can feel safe, especially when conversation turns into combat the moment it hits social media. I know some friends will roll their eyes at this post. Others may decide I’ve “gone political” and unfollow. I understand. Most of us are tired and trying to protect what peace we have left.
Yet I keep circling one question: If someone else, someone from any other party or movement, did what we are watching today, would I stay this quiet? My honest answer is no. So I can’t remain quiet now, even if the pushback comes from people I love.
What I See From My Seat
- Children behind fences, still waiting, still crying.
- Families split by paperwork that drags on while leaders pose for cameras.
- The Constitution stretched by executive orders or emergency powers framed as necessary because “our people” support them.
- Our own military placed on city streets, expected to stand between neighbors.
- Violence sprayed from every direction, then filtered through partisan newsfeeds until each side blames only the other.
These aren’t talking-points. They are snapshots of a country testing the tensile strength of its values. We can disagree on solutions, but we should at least be honest about the pictures in front of us.
Finding the Middle Without Losing the Truth
Plenty of friends on the right are caring, principled, and generous. Plenty of friends on the left strive for fairness, not chaos. The extremes shout the loudest, but most of us still stand somewhere in the neglected middle, hoping to keep our families fed and our communities whole.
That’s the ground I want to honor:
- I believe in secure borders and humane treatment.
- I believe in law enforcement and accountability for misuse of force.
- I believe free speech protects protest and it protects those who disagree with protest, so long as disagreement doesn’t slide into threats.
- I believe strong leadership matters, yet no leader is above the guardrails meant to keep every citizen safe.
When any side claims infinite authority because “the crisis demands it,” the train inches closer to the cliff.
The Heart Behind No Kings
I titled both poem and song “No Kings” for a simple reason: our nation was built on the idea that no single person should sit beyond question. Our founders argued, bled, compromised, and wrote checks and balances because they understood power’s gravity. When we let loyalty to a leader outweigh loyalty to principle, that gravity tilts everything off track.
The poem is lean, almost a whispered prayer. The song carries a heavier rhythm, a warning drumbeat beneath a plea for sanity. Each chorus ends with a challenge: Is this really what you voted for? That question is not an accusation. It’s an invitation to look again, from whatever vantage point we occupy, and decide whether the path still matches the values we claim.
A Request for Conversation, Not Combat
I welcome honest discussion. I just won’t conduct it in a comment brawl. Social media rewards outrage, not understanding. If you want to talk, reach out privately, meet for coffee, hop on a call. Tell me what you see through your lens, and I’ll share mine without a digital crowd urging us to throw sharper elbows.
A Blessing for Protesters and Protectors Alike
To everyone raising signs, cameras, or prayers in the days ahead: May courage guide your steps, wisdom steady your words, and safety shield every peaceful gathering. I pray that those tasked with maintaining order remember their oath to the people, and that demonstrators remember the power of disciplined non-violence. Evil thrives on chaos; it despises steadfast compassion.
Where We Go From Here
We stand at a crossroads where fatigue tempts us to surrender the wheel. Please don’t. The child still cries. The train still barrels forward. Our job, left, right, and center, is to keep our hands on the brakes when needed, to steer toward the common good, and to remember that no passenger is expendable.
Listen to the song if you have a moment. Read the poem. Sit with whatever stirs inside you. If it sparks hope, share it. If it sparks anger, tell me why. Either way, let’s refuse the easy slide into enemy-making.
There are no kings on this soil, only neighbors navigating a rough season. The middle seat may shake the hardest, but it also keeps the whole car balanced. I’m staying here, feet planted, voice steady, eyes open. I hope you’ll sit with me a while.
— Mike Baker
Listen & Read
- Song “No Kings” ➜ https://on.soundcloud.com/buKiqv61T771Cxk1pu
- Poem “No Kings” ➜ https://www.facebook.com/share/1AZShu2hRh/
