GUEST WORDS—(Editor’s Note: In light of the mass shooting in Las Vegas on Sunday, Stephen Cooper’s poem seems more appropriate than ever.)
My country, 'tis of Thee,
Troubled land of shooting sprees,
Of Thee I sing;
Land where 20 Sandy Hook children died,
Land where they tried to kill gay pride,
From ev'ry mountain side, high caliber bullets fly, when will it end?
My native country Thee,
Land of the AR-15;
You love glocks and (other) semi-automatic thrills,
Thy Bushmasters and Desert Eagles kill;
Breaking hearts with eternal chill,
When will it end?
Let gun control quell this disease,
And ring from all states please,
Sweet freedom's song;
Let all voters (still alive) awake;
Let new mental health checks and waiting periods partake;
Let military-style weapons be banned,
The death they cause is wrong.
Our families' cry to Thee,
These guns cause misery,
To Thee we sing.
It's long since our land was bright,
With common sense laws, things could be right,
Protect us with Thy electoral might,
Guns are not our King.
(Stephen Cooper is a former D.C. and federal public defender. He has contributed to numerous magazines and newspapers in the United States and overseas including CityWatch. He writes full-time and lives in Woodland Hills, Calif. His email is [email protected].)
-cw
