america

By Carolyn Connolly

In a world of grime, desperation, and hate—
Can the space between us ever be rectified,
In a landscape drenched in infant blood;
If Lady Liberty is covered in debris, in dirt,   
Tell me
Will your prayers and good intentions be enough
To let the blood on the pavement dry?

To those preaching hostility,
Tempering the unsacred “other” in fire,
Brandishing with pride
Symbols of intolerance, berating the bruised and beaten
Who live beneath the ivory tower’s turret,
Tell me
In a world of grime, desperation, and hate—
Can the space between us ever be rectified?

Good men, good women—
How can your prayers and sappy Facebook posts
Close the great divide between
The orphan,
The Black man,
The immigrant,
The refugee,
The woman on the outskirt,
Tell me
Will your prayers and good intentions be enough
To let the blood on the pavement dry?  

The land of the free is only free for the white man—
Land born from the backs of the unidentified,
Sweat pooling on their aching, weary necks,
For a country who denies their existence, overtly,
Tell me
In a world of grime, desperation, and hate—
Can the space between us ever be rectified?

They are ostracized and blamed,
Yet the first sent to fight their elders battles,
Youths go, terrified
And brave,
Dying for a previous generations creed, long expired,
The American dream subverted,
Tell me
Will your prayers and good intentions be enough
To let the blood on the pavement dry?

When innocent blood is shed for innocent blood,
Eye taken for an eye,
Justice becomes a justified reason to wage
Homicide,
Genocide,
And war in peace’s name—
To you, the disconcerted
Tell me
In a world of grime, desperation, and hate—
Can the space between us ever be rectified
When your prayers and good intentions aren't enough
To let the blood on the pavement dry?

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