A Poem, June 14
After Genesis 4
The answer to Cain's question is up for grabs in America
Or so it seems to me today, another bright June American day:
Am I my brother's keeper? Does it really matter what happens to him?
Another angry man, another frustrated man says, Hell, no.
Not if he's a Republican. Not if I can't stand his politics.
Not if he's thick as thieves with the President. Hell, no.
So he loads up on freedom, he inhales hatred and righteousness,
And he heads for a ball-field and a bunch of old men playing catch.
Because that's his right apparently. With his loaded gun. And his rage.
The answer to Cain's question is in our hands, America,
Your hands and my hands, liberal and conservative hands:
Am I my sister's keeper? Do I really care what happens to her?
Another frightened man, another sad man says, Hell, no.
Not if she's dancing in a gay club. Not if she loves like that.
Not if her liberation offends me, and her moves challenge me.
So he loads up on fear, he inhales betrayal and self-contempt,
And he heads for a place called Pulse, a sweet summer night.
Because that's how we do things. With our rage. In Armed America.
The answer to Cain's question is up for grabs, it's a choice we make.
Not just me and you, but us.
We choose guns and explosive rage.
We choose a classroom in Newtown, Connecticut,
And a ballyard outside Washington.
We choose a nightclub in Orlando,
And we choose to raise our little boys on games that slaughter for fun.
We choose the NRA.
Today--not tomorrow, not next week--we answer with our choices:
Choose life? Choose brothers? Choose sisters?
Cain's choices are ours. Our choices are Cain's.
There's blood in the streets, blood in the classroom,
Blood on the dance floor and blood in the infield.
Today we answer the question of God.
Are we ready? Are we able?