I have a friend who loves angels. She has angel statues all over the place. Now I'm not going to comment on whether that verges on idolatry - mainly because I don't care, but among all the other angels was the angel for the aborted fetuses. On the base of the statue there was a very touching little poem asking the guardian angel to watch over the fetus. I immediately thought of the 230,000 people, many of them children, who died in the 2004 tsunami. I wonder what their guardian angels were doing that day - getting drunk on the beach perhaps?
I was moved to write this poem for the unborn, and for all the Conservatives who wouldn't have helped these people because the people weren't Christian or because, "they should be taking care of themselves - get a job!" or some other similar, anti-Jesus reason, so here's my poem.
My Guardian Angel. You're holding me tight
Help me to make it all through the night
I'll need all the help you can give - don't you see
'cause the conservative mandate - they all do agree
All fetuses' lives are of value they say
'Till you ask them them for help - then they answer you, "Nay!"
Conservatives care that I live - that is true
So long as to them no costs do accrue
So long as it costs them no trouble, nor care
Because if you ask them for aid - they'll never be there
Ask them for food, education, or help
All they will say is, "You ignorant whelp."
"Get out there and work. We won't open our door."
"We like you better ignorant, starving, and poor"
No food when you're hungered, no help when you've drowned
But plenty of preaching, with no God to be found
Plenty of talk, 'cause that's free don't you see
They care about talk, not about you - and not me
The God that they preach speaks of loving and alms
But Republicans care for the greasing of palms.
A marginal life malnourished, uneducated, and brief
not just for me, but my mother; without help or relief
Ah, but life eternal, a wonderful aim
Or is that just more words that they're spouting, some sort of a game?
Hypocrisy's theirs, with their mouths full of lies
Perhaps they're all devils in some other guise
They talk about life, so sacred, so pure
Raining blows on the Bible to show that they're sure
that their God has shown them what is good, what is right
What Jesus said in the dark of the night
But they forget all his lessons, like the conquistadors
Spouting words without meaning as this poem underscores
Attacking and lying: rapacious for gold
If Jesus's charity is as it's foretold
Then the wages they've earned for all their sin and deception
will ensure them nothing but a fiery reception
for if they were true to their God's loving promise
They'd be loving and humble with nothing amiss
They'd be giving and open, and never judgemental
They'd be less sex-obsessed and and so much less banal
They'd refrain from judging - as Jesus told them to do
They'd then be better people - they'd be honest and true