We cry at night in the dark
of our hearts, we listen to
the sobs—the rolling shaking
sobs—a generation lost, of
a misguided awareness, a
motion toward a future neither
seen, known or understood…
we drift on the currents of
the social dilemmas that are
our own making, a proudness
that we have no right to
own up to we want what we
want and need little of that
yet we do and do and do…
always seeking the single
when surrounded by the plural
we gather as ourselves looking
over fences at the others
seeking to blame to shame
when we only have what we
have, no more, no less, we
continue to hurt the least able
the least willing, we spread
our gratuity in small and minor
ways, we hold dear only that
which we hold dear, dismissing
what is outside that realm, that
instance of forgiveness, a stain
we will never have the need
to wash…we try to balance but
there is never balancing, we want
too much we give too little…
until we remove ourselves from
our sight, we will never see why.

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