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- Posts: 115
- Joined: Mon Aug 01, 2011 4:11 pm
Memories once immutable
turn in my grasp like a knife
slippery with sweat and betrayal.
Sharp enough to sever unbroken surfaces
they insinuate themselves
between slivers of skin
between experience and hope
exposing the private parts of a grief
so vast it doesn't even have a name,
Separating subcutaneous tissue
from sinew, bone and marrow,
appearance from actuality.
Life so carved-up
I wouldn't recognize these things as mine
if they spoke to me in the street.
I always thought it was only
nations had their souls dismembered
after the shooting stopped.
History to the victor, crap to the losers,
scraps to the dogs and investment bankers.
But the personal never stopped being political
and this is war under the radar,
all the more lethal for that.
Secrets never to be told
words powerless to untie the knots
of these crimes against humanity.
Fear and shame remain for now
carried close to my heart,
and beg to know whether anything
can defuse these dangerous treasures?
You are a poet. Powerful and soul wrenching. Especially like the question at the end....a tribute to secrets we all have to share.
Thank you for sharing these words. I am very moved.
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