lineage…

lineage

we are
names
crossed off a list
we are
breaths stolen
in the night
we are
empty beds
covered with blood
we are
unheard voices
beneath your feet
we are
the diamonds
on your hand
and
the lithium
in your ipad
we are
the bastard slave children
of corporate greed
prostituted for your
personal pleasure
praying only
to see our parents
one last time
before
we
die

you needn’t worry…

copyright cwmartin 2011

it will not
change
your day
if another child
dies today
it will not
change
your day
when a child
is raped
or
sold as a slave
no
it will not
change
your day
if you do
nothing
but
your soul
shall
change

a strange gift…

 

she was brought here
as a child
so many years ago
away from her village
and the toys of her childhood
to become a child toy
for nameless men
who entered her room at night
taking what they wanted
each time stealing a bit of her
leaving her void of emotions
some of the men would return
week after week
year after year
of those who returned this night
she had offtered them
something special
if they would bring her a gift
a gift that she defined
a small tank of gas
for winter was coming
some duct tape
to seal the windows
from winter’s chill
and one strange gift
an old pilot’s mask
perhaps for decoration
as each left this night
satisfied by her
more than usual
she
smiled at them
a wry smile
but a smile
and
when the night was through
she took her last sustiva
smiled again
knowing
what they
did not know
then
taping the mask
to the tank
fell into a deep
eternal sleep