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Writer's pictureGigi Bousquet Williamson

100,000

Updated: Jun 5, 2020


Photo Source: UnSplash

Our knee on Mr. Floyd’s neck

Junior's reptilian hiss about the “Great Day on the Dow”

Our waking nightmare continues.


Indifference reigns supreme as Our beau ideal

In Our new normal’s False Apprentice corroding Our screens

Where death has become yet another sound bite for machinations.


The plague is just another plague

Following an incessant stream throughout

Centuries of civilizations’ suffering?


Can We learn from agony?

Anything other than the constancy of Our vacuum

Devoid of leaders but replete with victims.


Where is Reason and Our

Healthy indignation over the parasitic silence

Of flimflammers whose singular gift to offer is snake oil


To grease Our tribal arrogances and hatreds?

We invited them in through Our silence,

Our desperation for comfort, for superiority, for scapegoats.


The suffering of the 100,000 is no more, no less

Than all the lonely, individual deaths

Brought upon Us by senselessness.


The Orange Man says We will not forget You.

His actions belie his fraudulent words.

The knave's drivel nurtures the deniers.


If only We could say that Our 100,000

Could bring a change to

Awaken Us from the torpor.


Our sleepwalking leads

Us to remain quiet in Our undignified self restraint.

Outrage is an immigrant Our national wall keeps at bay.


The hounds tracking Our national humanity

Have forgotten how to howl,

As we abandon Our ideals for Apathy.

Photo Source: UnSplash

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