Guerrilla Poems

National Disgrace

How easy to think, when blessed, it’s something we’ve done.
Celtic calvinist new-age pat on the well-oiled white back. 
Congratulate yourself on the vagina you happened to fall out of. 
The wars and crimes and famines you avoided.  

How clever you are that you never heard one day
the cannons at the gate.
And your home, force-torn from under your feet.

How clever you are to be born in this time and place
that you never saw the earth shake. 
And them tearing down the walls, and how quickly and easily 
away luck crawls. 

How clever that you know
for certain
that our hearts ache differently,
and our children don't bleed the way yours do.

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