we are the quiet ones,
grey ghosts kept safe
in our houses of silence,
hidden in plain sight
while the loud ones screamed in place
and were crushed to oblivion
one by one by one by one by one…

we are the blind witnesses
to an everyday atrocity,
to a boring, low ratings holocaust
threatening to rise as slow
as floodwaters in spring
and drown the sandbaggers
while we are sightless in safety,
distracted on the high ground.

we are the empty hearts,
devoid of care and crucial concern,
we will wade through martyrs’ blood
proud that we were not divisive,
gathering the shorn hair of our neighbors
to weave into warm blankets
that will comfort us while we drift off,
lulled to sleep by the lullaby shrieks
of a murdered and passionate people