Militante


So many years,

and still, I wait

for us to be disturbed

by how accustomed

we’ve become to our customs.

 

We lack the eyes to see,

the minds to think,

that lines we draw are illusory,

that the cavities we’ve settled into

are the craters of calamities

we’ve detonated,

 

and the rubble of our selves

is the ground zero

of reality.

 

Think in divisions, and your thoughts will be divisive.

 

When will we move again?

Will it be toward each other?

 

When will we learn

that the strangers we condemn

and confront with fear,

fire,

and ill will,

are we?