Where will you be?

Slowly things change.

Eventually the last light will be snuffed,

somehow we will wonder why.

Eventually the dust will cease to shift,

somehow it won't be our fault.

Eventually the last string will be plucked,

somehow it won't move us.

And when the quiet sets in,

how thankful we'll be.

For no longer do strained cries flood our ears.

So when the last deafening crash of thunder hits,

perhaps then we'll understand how meaningless the crusade was.

If the mass cleansing is not enough,

if the hellfire grows cold,

if the hatred runs dry,

if the genocide stopped,

if the land bares no colonizer footsteps,

I ask:

will we have learned, or will we have failed?

The clock ticks closer.

From the river to the sea, where will you be?

🍉🍉🍉