Places 36: America

America — The U.S.A.

My country—land of shopping malls,
home of  bubble gum and the Chicago Bulls—
you’ve changed the color of cloverleafs
from green to gray,
redefined my childhood’s words
for feeling good and dead and gay,
and sold the rest of Sabbath days.

My country—land of cell phones,
instant potatoes and silicon valleys—
your lotteries haven’t helped Johnny read,
inspired good deeds, fed all your families,
or guaranteed liberty.

My country—giver to the nations,
home of missionaries and the Marshall Plan—
you’ve captured and contained
giftings and pains from many lands,
giving back as richly as God has given you,
pressed down and overflowing.

My country, I love you—
My country, I’m afraid—
with fear of God, I pray‚
Sweet land, God waits.
I don’t know His yardsticks,
I can’t read His dates.

When our last lies have all been said,
and our last innocent blood’s been shed,
His patience over earth will end

Land of the free, home of the brave,
your borders are closing
to the tired, homeless, poor.*
They are rising up within.
Have we turned our ears off?
Erased repentance?
Denied sin?

Who knows—
if we cried out,
denied our pride,
might God delay His judgment day?
Lord! Help us pray—
speak tender mercy over men,
call multitudes to love again!

1997

 

The lines, “Your borders are closing/ To the tired, homeless, poor” is adapted from a poem engraved on a tablet in the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus.  In part it reads, “Give me your tired, your poor, /Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, / The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. / Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, / I lift my lamp beside the golden door.!”