Day 17

O you nation

of gluttons,

you have squandered your praises

on swindlers

and eaten the rocks

so they wouldn’t tell;

you’ve stripped the trees of their hands

and blasted the mountains into silence.

You have built windows

to other worlds,

whose blinds you only draw

when they fill with the

cries of

children

gasping like fish in the streets

little girls fed to soldiers

families made into cattle on the highway.

You sacrifice

your own people

so

you

don’t

have

to

>>see <<

them

so you don’t have to

offer them

what is

yours.

If you were able,

you nation of thieves,

to raise your voice

in grief

for even

one

of these

even one

would it shatter

the dried, brittle

universe

of your heart?