I wrote this up quickly today, just as an exercise not only in writing but in sanity.
All the mosques are malls
and all the churches sell churros
The prices are on the walls
and all the altars take Euros
But the doors are often closed
to those not ‘ready inside
yet the priests are not opposed
to those the imams denied:
“As long as they have cash
almost anyone can get in,
and if they clean up our trash
we’ll even forgive their sins!”
Still, people protest and shout
saying “This is against our ways!
We know what we speak about –
our parents came back in the day!”
Then a child ruffles her brow
and whispers “That makes no sense.
We’re all just visitors now.
Why are you all so tense?”
Above the silenced crowd,
“It seems to me,” she said,
“that everyone’s allowed
to go where angels fear to tread.
“But the promised land we stole
is for only the chosen few?
We fence it and fiercely patrol
to keep out people like you.”
The children’s choir agreed
and wrote on the market’s doors:
“To all who seek – Godspeed!
You’re welcome in our stores.”
Not far away upon a shore
a crumbling statue reads
bring me your tired, and your poor
and those who will breathe free.