General Discussion

There once was a voice from the stage,
Whose fury leapt straight from the page,
De Niro asked with a cry,
“How can we stand by
While fear is the mood of the age?”

He thundered of masks in the night,
Of neighbors struck down out of sight,
“Can love truly grow
When dread’s all we sow,
And power escapes from what’s right?”

He spoke of the sick turned away,
Of millions with no healing way,
“What nation denies
Compassion,” he cries,
“Then claims it is righteous and free?”

He warned of an economy bent,
On gifts for the lavishly spent,
“While workers all strain,
The few rake in gain—
Is this what our founders had meant?”

“I’m hurt,” said the voice, “and betrayed,
By bargains in backrooms now made.
Not perfect we’ll be,
But strong we are—if we
Let decency never quite fade.”

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