With each sunrise:
I see Spaniards in their battle dress
trade musketballs for slingstones,
Killing innocence with guns and clothes
and Mass,
And feel three hundred years of pain;
I see a Japanese lieutenant watch Old Glory
touch the ground and order up the banner
of the rising sun;
I see fear and hatred written on the face
of Guam, and feel her thwarted anger —
See Guam’s hopes reborn, despite her pain…
Her spirit alternately wax and want
throughout those strife-filled years,
Her spirit soar with expectation at war’s end;
I see post-war love of comfort poison Guam,
and feel such saddness for her soul —
Ask myself what can be done to change
this trend.
There is no turning back, I know;
But clearest heads must guide our Guam
to paths of reason —
Help her fight addiction to life’s dross,
And help her find her future in the golden spirit
of her ancient past.
12 July 1980
All poems Copyright © 2009 by Mason Johnson
