BryanBorland.com

This poem is not anti-American, but anti-American philosophy.
This neo-monotheism,
this “My God or no God,” “You’re with us or against us” way of thinking,
spreading over coast to coast,
red state to red state like an oil slick.
How egomaniacal to assume we’re on the side of good
in every black and white fight. How blind we are that we cannot see
the socioeconomic grand canyon between
suburbia and the ghetto.
All the resources, having the best luck, the most money, the biggest guns,
should make us selfless, not selfish, and yet we
hoard our jobs, build walls that reek of Communist Germany,
debate why certain people shouldn’t have certain rights.
We roll over Iraq with a patriotic altruism or maybe as altruistic patriots,
onward Christian soldiers.
We are the curates of the world,
fifty stars,
one for each billionth gallon of blood shed.
But consider this my peremptory strike.
That statue, she stands for something.
Don’t forget how sad and beautiful she looked
against the backdrop of 9/11.
Remember that this is the country that allows
the fight against racism and sexism and homophobia.
Remember that this is the country where I can write these words
and read these words and shout these words.
This poem is not anti-American.
It is a prayer to all gods and no gods, to all faiths and no faiths,
naive though it may be,
this nation can still be saved.
Let’s tear up the contracts to make the bombs,
tear down the fences at our borders.
Protect our privacy and our right to love and our duty to write poems
of protest.
Call it a necessity or label it a plea.
We are worth saving.
That blood’s gotta be worth something.