Ode To America
My fellow countrymen, the President, Politicians, and pulpiteers Though not in a cave like Rip Van Winkle, I must have fallen asleep in "indifference and over-business". It was more than Van Winkle's 20 years, because prior to my sleep, I knew an America that dreamed of chickens in every pot; of carports, garages, and picket fences; of a good education and catching the Joneses.
It appears I am awaking, not from, but to, a nightmare; and to what am I opening my eyes to see? Me thinks it's not 'my country tis of thee'; not a chicken in the pot or fryer in the skillet. But I see leaders in the kettle like a frog, where the fire is turned down low and heating slowly. Like the frog, they are relaxed and comfortable. Oh Lord, if they only knew the manner of the frog's demise.
I see changes, and multiple evils have been removed. Recovery and relief have been appropriated and dispatched for the poor. Reforms and revivals have periodically visited us from above. I see blessings and prosperity beyond comparison; melting pots of dreamers and immigrants still dine at our tables. That's part of the American beauty.
Oh America, we are busy face-booking and twitting; But we must realize that we are also bleeding. I weep for what might lie ahead for us. I grieve for what we are becoming. I fear for us, though not of guns and nukes from afar; But for rivalries in the white house and the halls of congress. And I fear for our pulpiteers who also relax in the kettle like the frog.
07312017cjFBPH; August Standard Contest, Brian Strand Part fiction
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