Our innocence was taken one bright, September day.
There wasn’t any foreplay. It wasn’t love, of course.
We brought it on ourselves, they say,
we’re overbearing, have to pay . . .
why were we vulnerable?
Poked, blood ran raw. Can we ever feel safe again
standing tall, violated . . . viewed by our fellowmen?
Couldn’t cry tears of misery--
it happened so fast, was dizzy.
The beautiful America . . .
evil crawled in her britches, her being defiled.
Yet, proud and unrelenting, through her tears she has smiled.
Cramped, momentarily in fear,
she cuddled, enveloped, friends held dear . . .
and reels still from red September.