Sunday Scribblings asked for “You Are Here” poems. Hope the picture shows up on the post; if not, click HERE to see the actual picture.
You Are Here (X)
Even if you don’t wanna be;
Even as retirement funds are ransacked by the rich;
Even as pneumonic peasants hack back phlegm, sewing your clothing on ancient Singers;
Even as Predator drones are sending a bit more of Afghanistan back to the time of the Prophet (pbuh), OK’d by the Nobel Peace Prize winner;
Even as young girls are raped and sold into slavery all around the world, including your city;
Even as unions, which fought for the two-day weekend, the 40-hour week, pensions, and benefits are now demonized by people who don’t understand their “party” is back by CEOs;
Even as Rush pops Viagra and scans the crowd of boys at the B-ball court;
Even as a middle-class family loads what they can into their new home – the Gran Torino;
Even as ignorant people think Global Climate Change is like religion – damn the science, we choose our beliefs according to our pastor;
Even as my hometown has suffered three “hundred-year floods” in FIVE years;
Even as the Tea Party drinks Kool-Aid from exquisite china cups;
Even as the One Percenters party with the Koch Brothers, who host Republican members of Congress and, yes, five conservative Supreme Court justices; and
Even as those justices go back to Washington and declare G.E. and Halliburton “people”;
Even as kids dig for China on a Gulf beach and, two feet down, find gooey tar and run crying to their Day Care Providers;
Even after all this, why do you hold onto hope, crushing it till it oozes between your fingers and drips on the once-lush yard, now brown as a newborn fawn?
Because YOU ARE HERE. There is no escape. And so you pick up your sign and head to Wall Street, or you clutch your Swiss-cheesed Constitution and write letters, or you call your Senator’s local office and talk about it, or you sign up to recall some schmuck whose seat was bought and paid for by the Koch Brothers.
You are here. You are the only hope. You and me. And the time is now.
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil