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Clarity

It only took a year
to numb me to the chaos,
the every single day insanity
this regime projectile vomits
upon the masses.

The ones who still cling
to this absurdity
are complicit in our destruction.
The leopard will eat their faces,
the hyenas laughing.

My grief is reserved
for the ones unjustly imprisoned
who take their lives
in detention centers,
or so we are told.

My grief is reserved
for the children
whose stomachs rumble
as parents sit at tables,
heads in hands.

My grief is reserved
for the seniors like me
who sense the indifference
to our well-being,
our deaths a money-saving option.

I am tired of the gilded few
devouring the truth,
an elite cartel of endless appetite
holding all the strings
of the illusions they feed us.

Clarity is its own kind of grief.

Poetry by Melinda K Zarate