Of how this world, this fearful world
Should forget the strides of workers past
Should let the deep, crass pockets of ruthlessness
Cog the wheels of Justice with dirty needles
Dug beneath the skin of Kindness and Compassion
The daughters and sons of Honesty and Hope
How can this land, this golden land, won
With the blood of the native children
By the blood of unsuspecting dreamers
Come to this: the disrespect of all She
Has become, to fight for flags of oppression
At the cost of the flag of freedom
To rail against the promise of Her
Once open arms for the tired, the poor;
Where once the homeless, tempest tossed
Sought relief on these teeming shores, now
We are the wretched, huddled masses
Will Lady Liberty ever proudly lift Her
Beacon hand once more?
Her own lost and loyal children quail in
Fear that she shall soon fall upon
The shifting sands of selfishness, and
Unrepentant evil
(c) 7 August 2015
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