Aftermath
After the eviction prohibition ended,
Still in the middle of the Covid pandemic,
Thousands, nay millions of people
Were cast out of their homes.
Some found shelter with friends or relatives,
But thousands set up makeshift shelters
In woods, under bridges, and in abandoned buildings.
These shelters were barely rainproof,
With no running water, heat, or electricity.
There was no internet, of course,
So the children no longer could attend their virtual schools.
The worst thing, many said, was the lack of toilets,
And the woods, bridges, alleyways, and abandoned buildings,
Stunk to high heavens, and spread illness
To those already suffering greatly.
The police and politicians, many of them,
Tried to clear the shantytowns, keep the Homeless
Hidden and moving, out of sight of the wealthy and privileged.
By March, many Homeless started dying
And bodies littered our cities, large and small.
Portable refrigerated morgues in semi-trucks,
Mass graves in potter's fields
Embarrassed those enriched by the stock market,
Mysteriously booming in the face of misery and poverty
Not seen in the lifetimes of most people.
Something had to give, something had to change,
So was it a surprise to see the looting, burglary,
And murder that spread like blood
Over the richest
And stingiest
Country on earth?
Bob Coughlin / 17 December 2020
This poem is an apocalyptic vision, what could have happened, and what indeed happened in some places in the USA and throughout the world. The poem ends with a question. Are we, the USA, the stingiest country on Earth? Probably not, but at times it feels that way. Let us share our vast wealth!
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