“Send them back where they came from.”
Cry the descendants
of those WithOut Papers,
or those who “need not apply.”
Because history has a sense of humor
and it is self aware
even if its perpetrators are not.
“Home of the brave”
you tell me and I try not to laugh,
as you quake in fear at the sight
of the hungry,
“These colors don’t run”
but they sure as hell curl up in the fetal position
when the well dressed dogs of war
on their TV screens
begin to bark
at the kids across the street,
while the real threat laughs away.
“Freedom isn’t free”
and you sure as hell would know
when you buy it with the chains
on your neighbor’s ankles.
Meanwhile their freedom is somehow
still on lay-away.
you chant the word in thoughtless hymns,
never asking what it means.
Freedom from what?
Freedom to what?
Freedom for whom?
“Red, white, and blue”
what we have been left with
after generations of a myth
that could at least be inspirational
if we were not too busy using it
to buy another few decades of the status quo
for the chosen few.