poem

 Inside Us

There’s an anger inside us 

Seeking simply to be spoken.

A rage simmering under a heavy

Lid of repression

Now trapped in the silence of uncertain action

I would call it a peculiar kind of alienation

Only I’ve forgotten the object of our yearning

One day a strange man comes along speaking

Familiar words from the dead language 

In which we have become so fluent

We sit and listen attentively to his diatribe,

How the words have devolved to mere sounds

Like the way ancient coffins become empty again

Once the last bone turns to dust.

It’s a suicidal praxis that cuts the music

And everyone stops dancing

Oh man!

We were just learning a new language

That will allow us to express

Everything we were always meant to say

5/17/26