Raw Goods

We the living

we the living have no way to determine
what our lives will mean (whispered)

you who read this (shouted) shall
trace significance in our legacy of

depleted uranium shell casings
camoflagued ammunition banks
electronic records of blood donations
wildlife preserves and shorline trails
quadratic equations in ball-point pen
mercenary training camps, militia
uniforms costumes marching bands
videographed pornography
networked skillshares, bondage
bracelets, lucky charms, all

these records of longing and lust,
violence and revenge, a compendium

vast as arctic refuges, shrunk as
polar ice caps tracked by satellite maps
indiscriminate as hurricanes,
irrefutable as tidal waves, and yet

complicit as drug inforcement agencies
in small-arms trades to "rogue states"
rogered over the radio from
security contractors who wear the
bullet-proof vests that enlisted soldiers,
who signed up for diplomas and received
a court-martial for desertion,
cannot acquire through the budget battles,
confirmation hearings, and commision reports
of yesterday's news.

That's us.
Yesterday's news.

And yet -
we who know this is no time to die
shirk at work to collude in
unformed doctrines of educated consent
to learn how to live, love, promise and forgive
in this interplay of half-truths,
and a slower one at that.

We are not born to die, though
we all must; we are born
to decide what to do,
choose how
to make it new.

(begin again)

posted by judy j @ 4:51 PM