in the court of public opinion, our part cannot find a voice
and unexamined pain will blame the victim.
If violence does not ask what can I do?
It’s brushed off. Our home is spherical
nothing can be thrown away
only forwarded to a different dimension:
violence exported to another island, another ocean
where we eat the poison we gave to fish.
A poison that turns us into a walking disease
eventually buried into soil where it pollutes
the ground of all being
pollutes all that grows
committing each new generation
to the same illness.
It begins with hope and determination to fix
the problem, then despair when temperatures rise
valleys flood, where rivers turn into blood
life turned into a monument—sacrifice
without redemption.
So tell me dear kinfolk—who can you punish
without punishing yourself?
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