Politics: a Poem

The Death of Spirituality in Politics

Politics, on the left or the right,
is spiritually dead.
It is the bluntest of human forces,
a shoving of food from the common table,
without regard for the hunger that abounds.

It is an abuse of belief,
used even when the truth is plain;
a choke on dreams,
cheap paint on nightmares.

Politics is the last-ditch expression of a hope:
the will to crush anything–
any  thing–
in the stampede.

I am blessed to have lived
through a time when change
was driven at least a little
by love and creativity;
when hope didn’t have to wear jackboots
when only the kitchen screen door
was a barrier to conversation
with my enemy;
when the thirst of any man, friend or foe
was my concern, too.

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