Hi Mom! . . .I'm doing fine

When I get home, we'll have such a good time.

The job pays alright, lots of time on the tower,

but I miss all the family each hour by hour;

Police held me back in Mosul for a while,

Felt like a convict preparing for trial,

I needed a job, that's why I came over,

even though many thought this idea was not sober;

Tell the U.S. Defense they had no right to fear,

For I love America, my heart holds it dear.

But they were suspicious, and would not release me,

All this from 9/11, why treat people so beastly?

We never can seem to rise above pain

And the Patriot Act makes us all feel insane,

It's like African slaves who were whipped on their backs

and the Indians dying when the Cavalry attacked,

So if I don't come home, let the Congress all know

that they should have done better

and let Rumsfeld go, for he cannot

bring back all the lives that were lost,

and my question to him is,

"How much more the cost.?"


© 2004 by cynth'ya lewis reed