Oh, how quick they were to try and suffocate the flames
On the sacred, seasoned, sanctuary known as Notre Dame.
Oh, how the people stared and sobbed and frowned and asked God why
The ashes of their darling church were rising to the sapphire sky.
And why the art was destined to die.
The monstrosity moved the millionaire men
Whose sympathy made me question again
Where they were when the penniless suffered in vain.
A fixed cathedral will not provide something to eat though.
It will not revive people who died in Puerto Rico.
Its steeple will not make the fruits of migrant labor ripe -
Or help women escape the threat of violence and rape.
A homeless couple waits for humble strangers on the street
To give them coins or food or something that will keep them on their feet.
The stained-glass windows won't block out the silent mother's burning rage
As she's forced to leave her baby while he's locked up in a cage.
The white supremacists are still allowed to scream their hate -
But (oh wait) "we've got more important issues on our plate."
Like that burning church in France where not one person met their fate.
The pop! pop! pop! of bullets will drown out the celebration
But (hooray) the cathedral will see a few more generations.
The world is far too big to fix each mess, I must confess,
But there are essential matters we cannot wait to address.
The whisper of a waiting child with teardrops on her cheek
Will ask her mother why the strangers hate the language that she speaks.
But the millionaires can't hear her over the crackle of the flames
As they try and try their best to save beloved Notre Dame.