Dear George Bush

a poem by Kristin Prevallet

I am writing this letter just to inform you that the tide
 is turning.
It is a fickle tide,
one that has the presence of mind
to alter its course.
You may remember how just a year ago
many believed you to be illegitimate
(you still are).
Those were the days when your
slips of the tongue
were circulated as comic relief
when in reality
they weren't very funny.
After all, they revealed
your true feelings
like the clown with the innocent face
who sneers under his smile
while handing out glasses of water
laced with arsenic.
You're a prophet, George Bush,
every dangling modifier
and stumbling qualification
were just your way of telling the truth,
like how you accidentally predicted on
Dec. 18, 2000, during your first trip to Washington, DC
 as President-Elect:

"If this were a dictatorship, it'd be a heck of a lot
 easier. . .
just as long as I'm the dictator. . ."

read the rest of this poem here at Poets.org.
For some reason I am in the mood to
take a hard look at politics. It seems a good time to use one's voice.  
Here's the last stanza of Prevalett's poem:

If telling you these things is unpatriotic,
then poetry is unpatriotic,
and did I mention that I am a poet
paying attention to those winds,
those tides,
and all those other clichés that poets and statesmen use
to move the people to embrace one cause or another.
I am a writer of propaganda,
and here are some lines of my poetry:
Beware, the images of the future are crouching
in the shadows of grief,
welcome to the next century,
the tide is turning,
you are not the elected sovereign of the world,
you are not the king of freedom,
we will defend our rights to be citizens of the world,
you can't take that away,
you can't take that away.
Oh, no.
You
can't
take
that
away
from
me.

Sincerely,

Kirstin Prevallet   

for Debunker Mentality,
for Boog City and
the 17th annual New Year's Day Marathon Reading, 2002
St. Mark's Church
2nd Avenue
New York City

Poetry Friday is hosted at Becky's Book Reviews today, where she has some sad news about the death of Mary Beth and Steven Curtis Chapman's youngest daughter. My heart breaks for them. I am glad Becky's poem is more hopeful than the one I chose for today... Where do you put your hope?