In Retrospect, and Forward
I thought the day I saw the towers fall
While I ate marmalade, and drank my tea,
This brave — yes brave — unnerving enemy,
Who looks forward to death, and gives his all,
Will change our world.
With mind benumbed I wandered through the days
That followed, drunk on shock and burning grief,
With lowered guard, while yet another thief
Of liberty conspired on the ways
To change our world.
That wise old man Ben Franklin said it best:
That those who in their fear give up their rights –
Who lack the fortitude to fight the fights
To keep them, give permission for the rest
To change their world.
So what, then, is a patriot to do,
Too old to go and fight on other shores,
Beyond whate’er he can to fight the whores
Who blatantly their countrymen do screw,
And change our world?
My fondest dream is that there’ll be a day
My daughter’s child will look at me and smile –
Perhaps while keeping eye on hers the while –
And thank our generation for the way
We shaped their world.
Is it acid indigestion, or acrid indignation?
Not even in an onion pizza dream could I contrive
Deceit, conceit and hubris (and buffoonery) like I’ve
Borne witness to in Washington o’er these two thousand days
And more, since NeoCons and George the Second got their ways.
Their machinations machiavellian have truly shown
The color of their souls, and my disgust with them has grown
With every Christian reference, and Rumsfeld’s ready lies,
And Cheney’s snarl and Duhbya’s shifty presidential eyes.
I wondered at the time if someday I’d look back and see
Ol’ Billy Clinton’s office tryst as mere delinquency
In light of real executive shenanigans of note
Like starting wars, ignoring storms, and reading ’bout a goat
As buildings fell.
Who would ever have imagined?
“I have to reserve the right to withhold or withdraw invitations from bishops whose appointment, actions or manner of life have caused exceptionally serious division or scandal within the communion.”
~ The Most Rev. Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, commenting on his decision to not invite a homosexual bishop and an outspoken anti-gay bishop to a major conference of the Anglican Communion.
Dear Archbishop Rowan,
Your ethic doth bleed,
Your compassion seems to have run down.
Indeed it doth seem,
Since you choose not to lead,
You should doff your Episcopal crown.
The problems of conscience
That face you today
And that set your bishops to contestin’
Will not be resolved
In a practical way
By procedures avoiding the question.
The matter of gayness
Is with us to stay,
So Your Eminence must right the wrongs
And not simply posit
That back in the closet
Is where the dissension belongs.
Sit up straight you old prig
And put on your wig
And gird your loins to what is right.
Tell your College of Bishops
It’s none of their business
What their colleagues do in the night.
© William E. Webb, 2006–2007 All Rights Reserved