the Ugly Americans are but a few
still swimming up the tube
to where neighbors help and share
this God fight has us most a’tizzy
in a junk yard all a’clamor
where you go when dead
holding more importance
than living life
the very dress of Lady Liberty
still on the cutting room floor
and in her eyes a dimming light
“Be thankful for
any arms that hold you,”
the poet penned, “when
your own light
is growing dim.”
Land of our father’s dream
Tilled by our mother’s hands
O children of the light,
to thee I sing.