Friday, July 5, 2019

Throwing stones




Stones
(by R.P.Edwards)

Casting stones
At founders, dead
For slaves they owned
For things they said
While we recline
Upon our bed
And dine on children
Cold and red...


A beautiful baby girl, making all those delightful newborn noises that one hears when allowed the privilege of being nearby. A granddaughter, over nine pounds, and with an enviable head of hair already. Lovely, delicate, precious, adorable, unique, and very much a person, crafted by the finger of God.

You know, I can tolerate a lot of nonsense from the left. Of course Socialism and the Green New Deal are bad ideas, but I could roll with them as the nation would invariably suffer, and decline, and ultimately reap the wretched harvest that results from inferior seed. And, of course, there are other areas of disagreement I'll save for another day (although I've covered them before, no doubt) but one issue comes to the forefront and it cannot be dismissed: abortion.

You see, abortion is murder; plain and simple. And the debased thought that unites the many who now vie for the executive pinnacle that because this "life" is dependent, or inconvenient, it's alright to kill; well, that mindset was birthed in hell and no matter the religious prattle that oozes from the lips of these aspirants their foundation is anchored in the very same gross error that once gave solace to the slave owner. Heaven help us if any of these are put in the captain's chair. And heaven help us again if the church doesn't finally rise up to declare, "Thus saith the Lord!" 

The poem continues:


...And when we die
And meet our fate
And get our due
For sin and hate
Our heirs, if any
Will read our tome
Then wipe a tear
And grab a stone 

****


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