I was raised in a town and a time of open racism and sheer, mindless hatred of all “Others”.
Sixty six years later, I still live surrounded by a sea of white elders, many who remain filled with racism and sheer, mindless hatred of all “Others.” The only difference I see is that it is whispered now, not shouted.
I yearn to believe that when the generation ahead of me, and then my own, finally die off, this will finally end.
It is very hard to hold onto that hope, however, when I see people like the MinuteMen proudly claiming their rights on mass media in 2006. I cannot see an end to it, when, before my disbelieving eyes, I see an administration, (elected by the people of this country!) deliberately feeding the “Fear of Others” every single day, and so many Americans, with open gullets swallowing it whole.
It all leaves me with a lot of grieving to do, and a lot of rage to handle. Grief because my own generation couldn’t do a better job than this, and will leave the same battles to be fought all over again by our descendents. I am so sorry we couldn’t leave you a better legacy.
Rage, because I know my time in limited now, and there is so very little I can still do about any of this. This culture, that has so little regard for its Elders and whatever wisdom gained we may have to leave behind, does not care to hear our voices.
So I write and I write and fling it outward into cyberspace, grateful for that much of an opportunity to speak my heart. I know that writing for places like this is preaching to a very faithful choir, but maybe, who knows, someone else will see too.
This poem was written after seeing a piece on TV about the MinuteMen.
Thank you all for all that you do, and may you all have a weekend of rest and renewal.
Build a wall and build it high
Keep out the awful Others
Protect our borders, guard them well,
come take a stand, white brothers!
Oil your guns and keep them near
Stand watch through day and night
Let no one come across that wall
Your duty is your right
To kill and starve who ‘er does dare
to cross to this fair land
they might be terrorists, you know
those dead on desert sands
Stand tall with me, my brothers fair
Defend our precious rights
To guard against the dangerous brown
Invading in the night
When your watch each day does end
you lay you down to rest
And thank your fair and righteous God
That you were born “The Best.”