Pray for the Hillbillies

Used to be honor was life and a man

lived by what he said, or died. Look

at us now, welfare recipients.

 

Drug dealers with medical degrees

hand out Lortabs like government

cheese in the 80s.

 

Coal companies give us toxic

water to pipe into our children’s

schools.

 

We don’t need political leaders

with polished smiles and pretty words,

telling us

 

how ‘backward’ we are. We don’t want

any television reporter telling the world

how sorry she feels

 

for the children of this land who

who speak with wild honey

twang,

 

sing of Jesus and pray

that their mommies will get

off crack.

 

What we need is a powerful voice,

motivated by love instead of

dollars.

My neighbors are fighting over land.

too many angry words were spoken,

too many fists were launched.

 

I was a witness in a custody battle,

a third party, an education expert,

a position I never want to be in again.

 

A young man I care for may go to jail;

he’s not evil and has learned his lesson.

Judges don’t see things that way.

 

Farrah died. Michael died.

The world was shocked,

but it was Nancy Rose’s death

 

that hit closest to home. Her life

left a deeper impression. She loved

Jesus and family. She gave

 

kindness and forgiveness.

Her time here was spent

storing heavenly treasures.

 

A sadness churns in the center

of my chest, burns my throat.

Being human is never easy.

 

These decisions we must make

often taste bitter and bring tears.

Yet, I think angels long to experience

 

the pains and joys

by which we are touched

in this mortal realm.