~ Scarecrow
~
They
thought he was a Scarecrow,
that cold
A tiny, tortured shadow,
beneath the gray moon-light,
impaled against the Laramie sky,
and no one near to hear him cry,
beneath the gray moon-light,
and no one near to hear his cries,
that cold Wyoming night.
They thought he was a Scarecrow;
they drove by, they walked by,
for years, they closed their eyes
in silence towards the Hate.
Some say ignorance is no defense,
and pity the penance that just arrives
too many lives, too many tears, too late.
They thought he was a Scarecrow.
Crucified,
forgotten,
just another Scarecrow,
lashed to a split-rail fence.
They thought he was a Scarecrow;
our Nation's brought to shame.
The Religious Right:
they feed the Hate,
they breed the Lies,
they seed the Spite.
Oh, Christ would weep,
for They are most to blame.
They
thought he was a Scarecrow.
How could they have been so wrong?
Will they give us back His life, His smiles?
Who now will sing His songs?
Perhaps, someday, their hearts will open,
for even stones are known to break.
But let us never forget,
never forget Matthew Shepard,
for all Our children's sake.
(c)
Bud Evans, 1998.
All reproduction rights retained
by author.
