Jane Shay Wald




En Route to Buenos Aires



We're one row back from first class seating

 I smell the food others are eating


It strikes me as a metaphor

Dividing line. The rich. The poor.


I'm rarely on the struggling side

Does this tar me with a false pride?


As our country loses wealth

It's everybody for himself


The poor are made to walk the plank

The rich are running to the bank


The Christians think they own this place

America, where my white face


Protects me with a life of ease

While Christians fall upon their knees


To curse god for our president

Whose birth they claim's not resident




Jane Shay Wald © 2012


Recoleta Cemetery, Buenos Aires



A cemetery in the middle

Of the city, big and little


Crypts above-ground, on their roofs

Angels drive out spirit hooves


Of Satan while the lowest carving

Cost the bread of hundreds starving


Cherubs fly through man made towers

God and man, uneasy powers


Wealth divides in our land too

The word of god and Jesus who


Our politicians preach the Word

Totemic in their pagan herd


As third worlds master internet

Our nation sinks, pressed by our debt


And as our GDP declines

The GOP smugly opines


That Christian values will create

A faith-based nation born of hate


Above each bed a wooden cross

With Jesus comes our freedom’s loss




Jane Shay Wald © 2012