Priests raping children less than five years old. I refuse
to be told that this is the way things are supposed to be,
me looking at you, you looking at me, wondering
which one of us will be the first to have to come clean.
There’s separation in the streets, the sheets, war
in our bed, war in our head telling us to carry on, fuck
the world and drop mental bombs into the starving mouths
of the collective mind.I pray every day for a chance to survive
and so far I’ve persevered though many a time
I’ve wanted to raise my white flag and cheer
like a schoolgirl at a football game
to walking away from it all,
no explanation, no intention, no call,
just me in a room with someone who understands
that cutting loose doesn’t necessarily mean
you’re going to fall and even if it all washes away
it’s still in the plan and it will come back one day
like fossils unearthed from sand to teach a lesson,
preserve some small section of an earth
we are destined to destroy, teach young girls and boys
how to push the button, cause enough destruction
to eliminate the powers that be and make room
for new robots, as seen on TV. It hurts

to breathe while people wash away
hundreds of thousands at a time, mothers holding on
to their children who are holding on for their lives, weak
branches bending and breaking in the tide
while we watch, sitting idly by, wondering
who will be next, what great prediction will erupt
from the sky. There are reasons why
people die every day, a woman sleeps
with five starving children
on bundles of brown hay while
uptown a man beats his trophy wife
until the makeup fades away,
and it’s okay
as long as there’s enough
money in his wallet
to make them say
it was just an accident.

We weren’t meant for this damnation,
this slaying of self, only to be reproduced,
a copy of a bad novel
placed strategically on the shelf
and I want to read but the writing
hurts my eyes, black and white
chalk on the board
saying REALIZE.

09/29/2005

Posted on 09/29/2005
Copyright © 2024 Malika Bierstein