Seven Thousand And Counting

The day of bitter grief opens once more
This increasing agitated mind, full-blown
Furious, angry, steaming...
Where efforts are nothing but fruitless
Feeble in my attempt to be frank
A shadow creeps over my face
In poetry, I suffer the actions
Of my own country land

Where abortion activists mount
In the thousands with joy
With nominations
They seek to give the highest civilian honor
To a man, who has admittedly killed
Seven thousand babies
Several times nominated
For his years of advocacy
In legalizing abortion
He sits on a pedestal a hero

This, the highest award given
In a country
To those who have made
Lifelong commitments
To improve society
Holding signs, they flock
Around his many clinics
In full support of his inhumane deeds
As though he were God himself
They wish to pin a medal on his
Cold-hearted chest

The shame and sorrow sits too deep
The wound sharp and intense on my soul
Such madness causes a heart to shiver
To plead with tears, to beg for mercy
This echo cries out to those
In the very place
Where these wicked people live
Where unrighteous acts are committed
In disgusting, fashion every day
My spirit cannot phantom this evil crime
Those who back such cruelness
I gasp exhausted
May God strike me dead
Before I see this happen

Learn more about this author, Nancy Browne.
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