Monday, August 28, 2017

A Poem for 2017


              2017

    You blame Obama,
      I blame Trump.
         I blame you,
         you blame me.
       It’s CNN’s fault
      or maybe Fox News.
 It’s because of Bengazi or Iraq.
(We always blame the Middle East.)

      Dr King was right:
              this way
    (your way, my way)
    we will perish as fools.
          If I see you,
       will you hear me?
   (I’m the one screaming,
              screaming at the t.v.)

       Why is the remote
           so near to me?
     Russia and Neo-nazis
         and the alt-right
       the Klan (the Klan!)
        and flooded streets
              rising, rising,
remember when we didn’t tweet?

My country, ‘tis of thee,
sweet land of liberty
(sweet land of liberty)
of thee I sing land of the dream and King land where César fought (the only land we’ve got) let freedom ring. My native country thee, (we stole it from them) we did, did we? (alternative facts, disputed truth) Will we ever be free? Land where Rosa sat, land where Abraham stood land of so much blood and sacrifice land of fire and flood (remember when the towers fell?) ashes to ashes, dust to dust, melt down the statues and build pipes to bring in water clean
(remember what it felt like to be clean?) sunrise, heartbeat, food, drink, warmth, peace, music, love, sunset, sleep, it’s what we all need now are we free? sweet land of liberty.



       –Cynthia Sillitoe, August 2017