Strangers in a Strange Land Still
We came 200 miles
Davenport to Chicago
stopping in Dixon
to see Ronald Regan’s
boyhood home
and passing on every
local dive to eat
We saw miles of open land
corn so young
crying for mother the earth
We saw the sky turn violent
like the country below it
spitting pellets of rain
at our windshield
gusts from its heavenly lungs
so strong welding my hands
to the wheel
And as we talked
about the towns and farms
we passed as the
The Tree of Life trial
sat in our minds
white nationalism spreading
like COVID on Twitter
we wondered
how welcomed
We would be
in this America
if they knew
we were Jews
5 thoughts on "Strangers in a Strange Land Still"
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Moving through this poem, through the land, through the weather, through history even to this last line of powerful and culminating declaration. Thank you for this poem.
Powerful, Lee. That last line feels very well earned.
Love “corn so young/crying for mother the earth” and the image of the weather “welding my hands/ to the wheel.” Great job!
Wow – so powerful. You build up to the ending so well here.
This is a corrected version of the poem:
Strangers in a Strange Land Still
We came 200 miles
from Davenport to Chicago,
stopping in Dixon
to see Ronald Regan’s
boyhood home
and passing on every
local dive to eat.
We saw miles of open land
corn so young,
crying for mother the earth.
We saw the sky turn violent
like the country below it
spitting pellets of rain
at our windshield,
gusts from its heavenly
lungs so strong my hands were
welded to the wheel.
And as we talked
about the towns
we passed, the
Tree of Life trial
sitting in our minds,
we wondered
how welcomed
we would be
in this America
if they knew
we were Jews