i am unsure how it feels but am certain that i have returned

some people think
the earth is flat.
some people think
systemic racism isn’t real.
some people think
that being asked to
wear a mask
is oppression and
that their freedom
allows them to dictate
what they do with
their body, and also
your body, should
your body contain
a uterus.

and yes we are
a species plagued
by amnesia, always
forgetting the absurdities
we repeat—today,
some wish to pillory others
who use their most
educated efforts to combat
a virus. and yesterday,
we burned people alive
for their blasphemy
of orbital beliefs;
a virus surely couldn’t
be so deadly and
a sun certainly
could not bend us
to its mass.

we stand in circles
facing each other,
all of us pointing,
“it’s you, it’s not me”.

we take words from those
who predate us, but let
their intentions stay buried
in the past, and use
these words to bolster
whatever argument has us
on its hook. we think
ourselves open and honest
and fearless, while cowering
terrified in our handmade prisons
of denial. it can’t possibly be
me, no, none of this is
my fault, and surely not
my responsibility.

oh sighing sea,
don’t you tire
of our noise?
aren’t you exhausted
by our waste?
we take from you
the life you create,
returning plastic
in our sightless wake.
oh human, have you
filled yourself in totality
with your forgetfulness?
have you misplaced
the magic spinning
at your core?
we were created
to evolve,
and as we
evolve we
are asked
only to create.

Published by Zak

an intertidal island in an ocean of impermanence.

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