I first posted this poem around the time Obama became President, but it seemed appropriate to post it again today. I'll repeat what I said then, which is that it is in no way meant to be anti-American. I love America and all the Americans I know.
The American Dream
A president trapped by bullet-proof glass
How did he get there again?
Don’t let it be like Kennedy
Taking a bullet to the brain.
God Bless America,
The right to bear arms,
And a building branded with the shape of a plane.
Death row crowded, long years pass,
For the boy who is mentally ten.
Not even sure what he’s meant to have done
How did he get there again?
God Bless America,
The right to liberty,
And a building branded with the shape of a plane.
A student lets rip with a cartoon strip gun
How did he get hold of that?
From hatred, fear and unbearable pain
He answers with rat-a-tat-tat
God Bless America,
The right to life,
And a building branded with the shape of a plane.
A president trapped in bullet-proof glass
Can’t let it happen again.
One nation under God indivisible
But the cracks are showing the strain
God Bless America,
The right to justice.
And a building branded with the shape of a plane.
This post is not meant to be in any way anti-American. I loved America on my one visit and all the American people I know personally are fantastic. But, like lots of people, I have worries and concerns for the future. This poem was inspired by the sight of President Elect Obama addressing the people from between two huge sheets of bullet-proof glass and the sobering realisation that he and his family may have to look at the world that way for many years to come. But there is hope in change, and that’s why I decided to post this today. For America. With hope.
And ten years on from 9/11 my thoughts are coloured as ever by memories of my beloved mother who was with me at the time and already terminally ill. An extra layer to the painful memories.
On a lighter note, you can read a guest post I've written for the Bah To Cancer blog here.
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3 comments:
Poignant words.
I find it hard to know what to write at a time like this.
The terror attacks will always have that extra layer for me too, Helen, as we watched the news from a hospice later that day with images of the planes slamming into the two towers when my mum was also terminally ill.
Still can't believe that the human race would do that to each other.
Julie xx
Stirring poem. Words fail me.
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