I pay my taxes -- income, sales, and property.
I am complacent about my legacy.
Like cursing surfers loving their sport,
trusting the ocean, I take my liberties for granted.

I am a melting pot person,
descendant of potato pickers,
miners and Coolies, gypsies and Jews.
The word is too much with me. I am confused.

The dreaded “W” word in the news
looms like Four Horsemen.
Remembrance is embedded in my DNA.
I am an American. I am confused.

©2003, Stazja McFadyen

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Stazja is our Florida Museletter correspondent.

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Poems for Peace collection > table of contents

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