Tuscaloosa April - 2011: A Meditation

What hath God wrought,
Indeed?
He hath wrought
Match sticks
Out of houses,
Toys,
Out of trucks.
Orphans,
Out of communities.
We live in a world
Where we prefer our data
Incomplete.
Number of dead
Is sufficient.
How many homes
Gone?
How many school rooms
Gone?
Too numerous to count;
Do the math later.
Let federal aid,
Bring in a parade
Of house trailers,
And grease the parade,
Of those who must leave
Forever,
On a well paved trail of tears.
May our human-kindness know
No bounds.
May we never forget
Our good fortune,
In not seeing
Our own match sticks,
In that sad,
And pathetic scene.
The President came.
He said
“We will never
Forget you.”
How long is “never”
In politician years?
What words could
He use,
That weren't trite,
When we are “devastated,”
If we don't get
Invited to the right
Party?