Poem By Willem VanVoorthuysen
To eat your apple an spit out the seeds,
To water, feed and love a little apple tree?
Don't be irrational!
Who has the money, time, space and desire
to grow an apple tree,
and let the poor thing suffer from polluted air,
perhaps nuclear disease?
-Or just plain lack of care?
So, mercifully kill the weed
before your conscience, or the law, calls it a tree,
and please, don't call it killing but elective surgery.
Weeds feel no pain, as most enlightened people say.
-Their cries are silent, their agony unseen,
-each little baby killed in f r e e d o m's name,
-each single one stands written in His book.
-May He have mercy on America, on all of us.