ROSE'S TURN

October 28, 2018 / John Grimmett

My country, ‘tis of thee,
broken democracy:
Of thee, I sing.
Land where our guns are more
than all that we abhor.
Watch our neighbors turn friends at war.
Let the fraction sting.

My native country, thee!
Oh, land of not-so-free!
Ain’t that the truth?
Jews killed while worshipping.
Skin judged by coloring.
Wasn’t this the same old thing
as was in your youth?

Let music swell the breeze,
but let’s drop the niceties:
one can see a theme.
Maybe it’s late for now
(and not so much “why” but “how”).
Still, it’s startling what we will allow
when nothing’s left to dream.

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