Mother of dead and wounded
beginning to flower, skating the boardwalk
rocking that pink top, those short shorts
weaned on the mantra that Greed is Good
assured by Ronnie trickling down
that God loves America better than the rest
and any unborn child of your womb
will get everything that's coming to her.
Mother of dead and wounded
rumors of weapons of mass destruction
flying the flag, deriding the Chicks
who dare question the wisdom of a war of choice
while bankers point to the evil Muslim and
the terror that devil could soon unleash so you
look the other way and never ever
see them grease their pockets with oil.
Mother of dead and wounded
confused by changes, dismayed
by the hate they tell you to nurture
if you don't want to be replaced or abused
by gays, Jews, or brown interlopers,
touting your freedom to arm to the teeth
and promoting your tax deductible gifts
to political pacs and the NRA.
Mother of dead and wounded
kneeling in blood seeping from the body
of your gifted daughter shot in the back
as she walked to band where she played the flute
child of your womb with future ambitions
beginning to flower but now assaulted
cut down by the weapon of a mass destructor
getting everything they ensured was coming to her.