My Sacred Ballot
by Ralph Bushnell Potts
The blood of free men stains my ballot sheet.
Whatever others may do, I shall not carelessly
make my mark. I vote not because I can, but
because I must. Those who died for this, my
voice in my Government, had a right to expect that I would use it wisely, honestly, and
courageously. They did not die that blind
partisans, or the reckless, might make a game
of free elections.
Only my secret heart knows whether I justify the definition of "Voter" as they wrote it
in the reddening sand. If I love my country as
they did, I question my qualifications again
and again.
I carefully study the issues and candidates
to determine not what is best for me, but for
my country.
I will not be confused or deceived by
propaganda, slogans, or histrionics. I shield
my eyes to the glitter of personalities, purge
my mind of passion and prejudice, and
search diligently for the hidden truth. I must
be free of all influence save conscience and
justice.
I vote as if my ballot alone decided the contest. I may lose my preference, but I will not
throw away my sacred vote. For within the
booth I hold in my humble hand the living
proxy of all my country's honored dead.
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