Poem

Saint James

As a child, you taught me how to spell

Taught me how to read and write quite well

You taught me geography and the intricacies of the city

You showed me how to be brave and not to wallow in self-pity

From the moonlit hills of Porto Bello,

You were a sight to behold

You were indeed my happy place, my Saint James, my shelter from the cold

You were once revered,

I felt safest in your embrace

So imagine my surprise when I heard you fell from grace

First, you took my father,

I forgave you for that deed

But then I'm told that in bloodletting, you're comfortably in the lead

You've taken at least three hundred, just last year alone

You must feel quite accomplished in destroying people's homes

What is the purpose of this bloodbath?

Trying to feed your insatiable greed?

Or are you building an army?

If so, how many soldiers do you need?

The streets are now blood red, people's closest friend is fear

Family members are crippled by pain and blinded by rivers of tears

Why have you changed so drastically?

How did you become so vile?

You used to be my happy place,

A place that induced smiles

Why do you insist on leaving effigies in your path?

Why must you continue to vex God?

Do you not dread his wrath?

Circumstances have pushed us apart,

I yearn to be close again but

How can we be close if you keep making statues of my friends?

You are not even a little rueful

No remorse for your hateful deeds

Oh I wish I had a choice than to watch as my beloved city bleeds

And desist from calling yourself a saint. You have no concept of what it means

- Makada McBean