How
many briefs have played
The
role of victim upon this
Well-walked
floor?
How
many mistakes have been
Let
to slip through the cracks of
Prejudice,
bearing only unilateral
Shields
marked with the indicia of ignorant applause?
If
something runs amiss
Perhaps
the better option
Would
be to fix what ails
If
something runs afoul
Perhaps
the best option
Would
be to tear the framework down
If
the only thing preventing change,
Are
the potentially diminished pocketbooks of senators and congressmen…then cast out
thy demon and begin anew again
Sometimes…oftentimes…It
feels as if, we, the old and young, the each and all, not included in that
select caste of few, belong to a collective, duly deserving of unique
entitlement. Qualified most of us are,
to propose a writ of habeas corpus be filed in our honor; to ensure the whys
are answered appropriately, beginning with why the few, are able to imprison
the many without a recourse set to scales?
Instead
we fight amongst ourselves. Battles
between brothers and sisters, cousins and aunts, uncles and fathers, mothers
and sons, Daughters and nephews, grandparents and nieces, neighbors and
friends, break out all too consistently.
This warfare has the few popping a cork, as they enjoy the show,
watching as the power of a combined voice crumbles incoherently. Instead of
speaking in unison, many as one, the screams of singular derision overshadow
each the other, creating an unlistenable, undecipherable message sent.
There
were four cities illustrated Biblically, where we know what stirred the seas;
where we know what came to be, and yet, still
This
flood runs much deeper…
