Things aren't so different

Perhaps I've been reading too much apocalyptic literature.

Bailout
- a prayer -

By the East River, there we sat and wept, when we remembered Wall Street

Great animating Spirit,
maker, breaker of bonds,
that draws the cycling tides
round our knees or out to sea
in black night or red dawn,
that shades green our eyes
as earth grays, is concretized,
hear our prayer.

Through our neglect of custom
we have fallen from Your favor.
On our own account we no longer savor
Your richness. How quickly we
have learned the cost of our actions.

Is our smoke displeasing,
factories replace ox and kid –
is this foul incense?
Our machines slaughter stock
for us now, is this displeasing?
Have we not fallen
toward Wall Street and prayed?
Must we ourselves dash the blood
upon your altar, above our doorframes,
renounce our old ways, forsake
Detroit’s sweet machines?

Accept our new sacrifice,
one point one trillion backed
by your people, allotted by our priests,
loaded on Your people’s backs.

To You, oh Economy, we offer this gift,
as our fathers shed blood
so the sun might rise
as our mothers pinched us,
so we might shed tears
and again the sun
might greet our eyes.

Amen.