With your pens, your words,
you’ve crumbled countless lives,
denied life to the dying,
food to the starving,
water to the thirsty.
Absolution will not come from Abstraction:
your lines of rulers,
policies and declarations;
your desire and hubris
is not masked through messengers
or your failed intermediaries.
No entity alive can offer forgiveness
for these gravest of crimes
against your own souls –
against the soul of our very land
who held you in her bosom tight,
granted all that you wished:
there is the rope that will burn your neck
for the debts you have incurred.
It will not be me, or any of the billions
you have put under the sword –
rather, you must take care
to watch over your own hand,
possessed by the greed of your wasted youth,
watch that it does not get too close
to your sagging throat,
for you already know its penchant for death.
screaming at low volumes
