I never thought myself a savior,
but I live in the gravity
and shadow
of a shared history –
I know we left behind
explanations
unfurled like smoke
in a privileged mouth.
I aimlessly drift apart,
thoughts to be complete.
Liquid Paper cannot transcend
what has happened –
so why trade
what blood has spilled
for what was changed in ink?
I fade between lines
of me and we –
aware of cracks and follies
of society.
These thoughts, like vermin
slide through the grease and grime
to feast
on those victimized;
on those maligned.
Damn your rebellion,
battle flag, God and heritage –
even now, absent of the modern mind
I look to the past
to discover how people erased
choose to survive.
Sherman marched to the sea
burning all
the execution block
could not reach. |
Submission Name: March to the Block
