“Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free …”

And let them have guns.

The spirit of 1776 lives.

Tho’ cities soar and sprawl across our land

And we call ourselves civilized,

Ours is yet an untamed wilderness

Of angers and savageries,

Of viral fear and cruel, untimely


Centuries’ old necessities,

Logically amended to our Constitution,


Beyond the “golden door”

There is no Eden.

Once upon a revolution

Liberty, sanity and guns were brothers.


In our homes and on our streets,

Mid-day and mid-night

That is no longer so.

Metal muscle deals death haphazardly,

Screaming one’s right to bear arms

As if… as if

That need be so.

I am grateful

My own right to arm myself

Is far removed from wanting to

Or needing to.

But I live with a sadness

For the insanities


In its own name, they say,


Perhaps, in some enlightened future,

One’s need to bear arms

May be more clearly sanctioned

Than one’s right.

Then we may know


Has come of age.