Flowers Bloom At Night

Dystopian reality

Do you see how the powers
that be acquired their positions
through the same incitement of terror,
and violence they now condemn?

Do you see how they cleave to their post,
clutching them close like precious stones?

Do you see how meticulous they are,
waiting for anger to spill
into outrage that is tangible—
then step in to censure the reaction,
but not the cause?

Do you see how quickly they defend
the inanimate, the soulless,
rather than the wronged?

Do you see how things have shifted—
from silence and inaction for victims
to cries for peace
that rattle when they’ve already
mobilized their armed forces?

Do you see them watching from their thrones
as we wrestle our dystopian reality,
while security, justice and peace
are reserved for them alone?

N.W

We will forget. We will fall into the stillness as we so often do.. our anger will be buried along with the need for justice and the tradition shall continue, of outrage, outrage, silence and then memory loss. But I hope one day that tradition is broken.



A forgetful people

It’s the inaction after the deed is done—
the limbo of quiet,
the unspoken realization that nothing will come of the circumstance,
and our collective tolerance of it.

It’s the limbo of “who is next,”
which we use as fuel for the next—
rather than storming the streets in numbers,
demanding justice for the wronged, the abused, the deceased.

But we forget.
Object permanence is our plight.
When we should act in the aftermath—
to correct the marginalization, the violence,
the oppression, nepotism, abuse, r**e, and murder
—we lose interest the very moment unified cries
soften into depressive murmurs.

We are a forgetful people,
and we will continue to forget
until no one is left.

N.W