Snowblind
This poverty of love scratches at my soul,
Etched misery on frosted glass minds,
It's not their family they see cowering,
Cast in the black shadow deafness of the economic boom,
But some other tribe cast aside from them,
Other humans that they will not bring themselves to love,
Disrespected disconnected,
From a love that should connect us all.
It's not themselves they see caged in abject desperation,
Scratching scrabbling around for a living, to live,
Gazing on through bars of poverty grasping
Without hope,
But some other tribe cast aside,
Other humans,
Disrespected disconnected,
From a hope that should imprison us all.
Have we no shame to see these things and stay blind,
Have we no shame to cast these shadows without care.
It's our world, not theirs, not ours. Fuck them.
Fuck them and their different skin,
Their different language,
Their different religion.
Fuck them and their dirty children,
Fuck their futures,
And their cultures.
Fuck them and their disgusting tiring inconvenient poverty,
Fuck the politics of poverty, It's Masters, it's victims,
Fuck their world, and our fear of it: of them.
They are not we.
It's not themselves they see,
Disconnected,
Blind in a hall of mirrors,
Reflecting myriad this squalor of understanding
On our world.
We're here for a good time right?
This poverty of love scratches deep, claws on my soul,
Etched arrogance on cold headstones of compassion,
Have we no shame to see these things and stay blind,
Have we no shame at all.
Koguis, Colombia
Wounaans, Panama
Kunas, Wargandi, Panama