Feeling

I mow my wet November post election lawn
ruthlessly at the lowest setting, despite
 cautions from gardeners to go high,
I am not feeling high.
Now those weeds and grass are
an inch above their lives,
like many refugees and immigrants.

I enter social media again, and post stuff
stuff I think is really crucial now
when confusion reigns.
I had left this world for many months -
and will leave again, maybe tomorrow  when
the wine has worn off.

Having a sexual encounter with a full grown adult because of
mutual attraction is far different
than
forcing a 13 year old illegal immigrant in a whore house of
models hoping to get a break
from a cadre of rich men as their jailers.

I think all day of little girls, so boisterous and free-
I vow to stand and fight this sickness
led by a sudden dictator
the christian without a conscience.

They said, in Catholic School,
to guard against false prophets,
men of low moral standards, posing as leaders.

Now it has come, and I can hear the nun's voices asking me

"If you had to stand up for God,
like Joan of Arc, could you do it?"
Mettle not metal.
I wondered when I was 7
what that would be like
oh, but things are better now it could not
happen to me.