A federal sat city on map
a small dot between North and South
whose cotton-filled fields
drowned in an ocean of injustice.
There men in big rooms with big carpets
and big voices and big pockets
built a civic stage
hidden behind curtains of bluestone granite, promising a pursuit of freedom.
Time carried on – 1791 to 1991 to 2019
and the big rooms grew bigger
and the big carpets grew bigger
and the men grew older
and the men died and new men came
and with them brought their big voices.
But the stage was never a stage
but a battle field and the soldiers
carry books and briefcases and wear
suits and ties and all the while I think
that everyone was already dead.
Now miles away the children are crying
and dying and the women
are crying and dying and
the men with their books and briefcases
in their big rooms with their big carpets
hands digging into their big pockets
in order to form a more perfect union
can’t hear a thing.