Passing of the Spade

Funny how some come to this land
smiling-humble and wide-eyed
attracted by the lady with the gentle flame in her hand.

Then while they build their fine homes
on a pricey piece of land.
They start listening to the dregs.
Blue cymbals start banging inside their heads.
They begin to dig a mind hole

Another spade of "woe is me" fills with dirt
Deeper into the mind hole they go.
Into the darkness of perceived oppression.
The wide eyes narrowing.
Not a hint of humility to be found.

Another spade slices deeper
stripes of anger and hate
replace that once smiling face.

They bark loudly about oppression from the pulpit of their fine homes
their vanity license plates and advanced degree
Mostly paid for by the working American man.
They cry about how everything is stacked against them.
There's a constant riot in their heads.
The mind hole deepens and widens.
A place where sunlight has no chance.

The real tragedy of it all 
is that they hand the ungrateful spade over to their offspring.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace