I envy those still able to place words on a page.
I hesitate at what I might say to display my rage.
Silence is its own subtle, harmful, deadening cage.
I refuse to become like you – a killer
of all that is good, all that is free, all that is true.
I refuse to become like you – a silent witness
of all that is evil, all who are held in bondage,
all of the lies which rely upon you.
I refuse to become like you – a sycophant
in silent praise of racist, sexist, xenophobic chant
by tiny minds, fattened by greed, with tiny hands
grasping for the sacred trust, and pedophilic lust
most hide from civil and moral view.
I refuse to become you – a lost boy
in Never-Never Land, fearful and confused,
afraid to grow up, preferring to fly high
above those you believe inferior
so that you can feel superior.
I know who you are; and so, do you.
I refuse to become you; and so, extend a hand
to help you settle down upon a branch of freedom.
It is weakened; it is true.
But still strong enough
with love enough
to hold us…together.
annarino writes 