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?