There’s a warning in the early breeze,
By evening it’s a gale;
A sea upon which any ship
Would not, could not, sail.
The predictions from the weatherman
Are coming true, and fast!
Will these wild and deadly seas
Engulf us all, at last?
America is like this sea;
A tempest, raging wild.
On our knees, we call on God
Like a fragile, frightened, child.
From far across the waves I see,
In cadence with no yield,
A company of heroes marching
Steadfast from Flanders Fields.
Their spirits, joined by patriots
Crossing over tempest waves,
Reach Gettysburg, Arlington;
Emptying every grave.
Their jaws are set, their eyes like steel,
Demand a full review.
Down Pennsylvania Avenue,
They’re marching two by two.
The land they paid full measure for;
Laid down their hearts and souls,
And only kept her freedom for
Their tenacious, unyielding, hold ...
Is threatened now by shameless thieves
Who fill their pockets first,
In love with filthy lucre, still
They seek the bulging purse.
They steal because they can and
No one even slaps their hand.
But, in my dream, those knaves were brought
Before those ghosts to stand.
And as in Daniel’s famed account,
The writing on the wall
Said, "Weighed, weighed, found wanting!"
Through an abyss they began to fall.
Labeled with names we cannot love
(Traitor, liar, thief);
Too guilty before these steadfast souls,
To beg for mercy or relief.
And the ghost-like soldiers stood with tears
And watched them disappear
While America (once good once free)
Became slave to the high bidder’s cheer.
Whose slave is she, anyway?
Who holds the trillions note?
Where will they look for integrity to
Guard dispersion of funds without gloat?
Oh, God, grant the miracle we so need
To hold our light up high.
As one, let us bend our knees and pray
For America must not die.
©Joan Clifton Costner