Poemdog

Dogs 2018

THERE WAS ALWAYS BLOOD
(9/25/18)

I never
killed

tortured

or enslaved
anyone

yet
here I
am

living
upon land
that was never
my ancestors'

good earth
ripped away
from the native
inhabitants

so long
ago

so violently

I have
claimed nothing
as my own

I assumed
that of others
due to a fluke
of birth

a random
geographic
wandering

I do not
know
how to feel
about the fact
of my current
existence

guilt?

despair?

depression
for all the deaths
necessary
for me
to have a home?

for me
to buy
a loaf
of bread?

I would
just go
back
to where
I came from

but am more
than four
generations
removed
from that
country

that tongue

I cannot
speak
the language
of my great great
grandparents

they left
another
graveyard

from across
the sea

to come
live
in a new
land

on top
of new
corpses

who were
unceremoniously
interrupted

from killing
their own
kind