Bringing Mae Flowers

I’m not the neighbor Mr. Rogers knew I could be

When I refuse to grieve

For a man who openly mocked empathy.

A man who reduced lives to a price

To be paid for his right to bear arms.

“To be a neighbor”, Rogers taught us,

Is to forgive and be kind.

But I can’t help but to resent that I

Should be held to a greater moral height,

Than those who spread only hate. 

“Won’t you be my neighbor?” Rogers asked

In his kind, gentle way.

“Release the mad that you feel, and start a new day.”

Mr. Rogers, I fear that it’s already too late, 

The neighborhood is gone,

Sesame street is ablaze.

I am not the neighbor Mr. Rogers knew I could be.

Because I cannot forgive someone who spread apathy.

While I don’t cheer for death, I also don’t grieve

A man who was no one’s neighbor.