Jane Shay Wald

En Route to Buenos Aires

 We're one row back from first class seating
 I smell the food others are eating
It strikes me as a metaphor
Dividing line. The rich. The poor.
I'm rarely on the struggling side
Does this tar me with a false pride?
As our country loses wealth
It's everybody for himself
The poor are made to walk the plank
The rich are running to the bank
The Christians think they own this place
America, where my white face
Protects me with a life of ease
While Christians fall upon their knees
To curse god for our president
Whose birth they claim's not resident

Jane Shay Wald © 2012

Recoleta Cemetery, Buenos Aires

 A cemetery in the middle
Of the city, big and little
Crypts above-ground, on their roofs
Angels drive out spirit hooves
Of Satan while the lowest carving
Cost the bread of hundreds starving
Cherubs fly through man made towers
God and man, uneasy powers
Wealth divides in our land too
The word of god and Jesus who
Our politicians preach the Word
Totemic in their pagan herd
As third worlds master internet
Our nation sinks, pressed by our debt
And as our GDP declines
The GOP smugly opines
That Christian values will create
A faith-based nation born of hate
Above each bed a wooden cross
With Jesus comes our freedom’s loss

Jane Shay Wald © 2012