Colossus quondamque
futurus[1]
A reflection on the greatest nation in
the world, tied with Poland. An appropriate piece for future Independence Day
celebrations.
The cynics show
the tarnish settled upon
the lady’s
bronze arms, gilded green with
money’s color.
They show the perversions
admitted by
doctors, bankers, teachers, to
spread disease,
theft, and ignorance, that
bind Liberty in
heavy web and grinding chains,
from private
anguish to hellish spectacle by
glass eye
converted, all-present and controlling.
And though the
golden door seems more
battered by
rams made at home, by storms
that needed not
wreck the house, divide it so,
though the
hinges seem to creak with painful
groan, that
speaks of long neglect and selfishness:
yet still the
multitude of world crams the door
and noble
threshold of this land.
Yes! Still the
citizenship of
this republic has the weight of gold,
and gleams as
gem holy and unknown: key to
privilege
enjoyed by none other, to belong to
and be defended
by the greatest sword, longest
trident of the
world. Though tarnished in our
eyes by
constant stream of grime and filth, the
millions seek
and see the Dream of father’s lore,
that is between
the silver stars and blue of seas,
in the earth
that raises wheat oceans and promise
of beginning.
Hope long abandoned as
child’s
play, as story
to shroud the sad state of things,
is gathered as
treasure, as Christ’s pearl and
close to heart
caressed, to serve as balm, sweet
reminder when
those here already fling abuses.
Thus my father
twenty one years mixed his toil
with this land,
made it his own by work of hands
and constancy
of heart. Here he founded with
mother our
family, and within short time matched
those at home
in happiness and prosperity. Such
power did God
give to this nation, to use mere
widow’s penny
as foundation of empire! O Lord,
I still feel
the heat, if see not the fire, of this star
amidst the
nations - if misguided, then slowly
righted, and
with it the rest of nation-family.
Let Liberty
remember her mother, Charity,
and honor her
father, Justice, with shake of
shackles, that
loosen old and dreadful bonds.
For if she but
liberate herself, she will ope wide
the solemn
portal she guards of shining future
for the poor
and forgotten of the world.
No comments:
Post a Comment