“The Boomers Arrive”

I met you on the last day life was sacred,
At end-point, now we’ve stretched our living span;
The next day, yesterday, court made a statement –
“Just want to shuffle on? Well, now you can.”

So baby boomers have sufficient numbers,
And clout to change their world to life they’ve lived –
“We need not feel the pain, the inconvenience,
Just like abortion, now on death we give –

“Our view of life – it is not sacred, ever;
We are the kids begotten after war,
Whose parents said, “Be fodder for our cannons,
Just like we were for centuries before.”

“We told them, “No”, then watched them kill our heroes,
Like Luther-King, two Kennedy’s and such;
Kids don’t rebel, they imitate their parents;
In imitating, do so over-much.

“We said, we’ll kill our kids, we’ll imitate you,
But at the first, before their rising costs;
If they are in the way we’ll just abort them;
They’re just a flap of flesh, so nothing’s lost.”

So half the kids conceived are now aborted;
At eight weeks one can hear a beating heart;
At ten it’s gender puts in an appearance;
Oh Jesus, Mary, mother – it’s a start!

I’m glad You lived back in those early ages,
When donkey-riding, birthing in a barn,
Was part of life, beneath King Herod’s orders,
To kill those kids, once born, to calm alarm.

Because of You, our cultures now have leaven,
With salt, and light, to open up a way;
To move towards God’s vision for the living
Of life here on this planet with His sway.

But I digress – for now there’s time for living,
If you survive abortion by your mom;
But now our kids will snuff the inconvenient,
Just like their parents snuffed aborted ones.

They’ll imitate their parents, push those borders,
Which state the limits on new killing rules;
Just like abortion at the first had limits,
“For we are genteel, not a bunch of ghouls.”

Lord, back at Stonehenge, parents slit up daughters,
To help their crops when weather did not work;
They stopped, but still we’re into killing people –
Our children – now our elders – we’re berserk!

You stood there with a smile beneath black headscarf,
Your crinkled scrubs, life dancing in your eyes;
Bit awkward at procedure – it will mellow –
Like doctors – mellow now when fetus dies.

Your headscarf gave me hope amid these sorrows;
It spoke of spirit first and physic last;
Like crosses on the walls where you are working –
Is it just “Form”, “Perspective from the past”?

Or does it speak of generation coming,
Who wish to turn the tide of Stonehenge days?
To find a better way to do our living,
Than snuffing people, when for us it pays.

Thanks Lord for this.

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