Pantomime: A Poem

What happened in the overt cracks,

The cracks forced and shoved back together,

Disappearing amongst the weight of one another,

Disinformed, overwhelmed, stifled, hunted, chipped,

A piece at a time, traversing, flooded, overrun by old

Patterns, blemished and targeted, pressured into a corner

To conform, to crouch and beg, the raped generations,

The ancestral sins, the running blood, the dead water,

The benediction of decay, hands on me, hands on you,

Face to face, so blind, so silent, take me away, I’m made

Out of clay, my own, theirs, the ones who cannot rest, who

Still beg for forgiveness, what happened to us, what do

Our voices sound like, without theirs, a concoction of despair,

It’s going to end, they are going to run out, how do I forgive,

How do I not resent, I want to live, I want to live, I want to live,

Has there ever been protection, what did it consist of,

Where is the heart of the machine?

How can I reach the heart of the machine?

photo of person s back
Photo by NEOSiAM 2020 on


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