DESECRATION

The invasion arrived in two waves
that awful summer.
First it was Disney.
Then the Pope.
We were all supposed to be thrilled
as their hordes of emissaries
arrived in Central Park
to wreak havoc on my beloved Great Lawn.
Huge and unkempt, it wasn't beautiful,
but it belonged to us all.
And it was always there,
spring and summer and fall.
It was probably even there in the winter
though I can't personally vouch for it.
By some miracle,
it had survived all these years
without falling prey to commercial interests.
But it's hard to hold firm in the face of God.
Or Pocahontas.
So the city sold out to the promises of
tons of money that would be poured in later
to undo the damage of
huge structures and thousands of chairs
and banks of lights and monster machinery
that took over the scruffy patches of dirt and grass.
Disney had his day.
The Pope had his pomp.
The Lawn had its desecration.
Millions of dollars and a year later,
Hollywood and the Church
have made good on their promises.
I'm still fuming.
For a whole year, while they fixed it up
and made it all pretty,
we were fenced out of our playground.
Watched four seasons come and go
while they bulldozed and landscaped
and made us keep off the grass.
I hate it now.
It's all groomed and organized
and feels like it belongs to someone else.
I haven't forgiven them yet.
Today, passing by,
I saw structures and tents moving in again.


© Ellen Azorin