I will never understand them,

never cease to fear them,

never find enough empathy

to accept their poisonous Indifference.

Indifference to the illness or death of a child,

because of their skin color or national origin,

to lead in the water of thousands,

to the callous destruction

of nature’s last sanctuaries.

It feels less like indifference than rage.

Like a murderous revenge,

a strike at those things accorded a beauty

they have never been able to feel.

A way to own, or at least deny others,

the use of anything, potentially an obstruction

to: their bottomless hunger, the burning lack,

the emptiness they try to fill, with imagined victory,

and an odd satisfaction in their ability

to evoke our grief.

Who will bring back the lost children,

the missing species, the reviled refugees,

the shriveled forests,

Or mend our kinship?

What will you feel

When your lies are exposed

and the damage is irretrievable?

to whom will you reach out

without finding everywhere

The anguish that is your legacy?