What Have We Become?

What have we become?

If you only look around and notice the misery,

Brave souls dying by the seconds,

Protesters silenced by disfavors,

People kill people. Blades sharp. Flesh cut.

Son, fatherless.

Son, killed for playing music.

Son, murdered lips pressed, jolly whistle abrupty releases.

Rope tethered around the neck; oxygen deprived.

Trees lay low, arched in a fetal position.

Watching birds soar across the Mississippi River.

But yet, birds are inmates of love. Isn’t this enough?

Suppressed for centuries, but can finally vote.

What have we become?

Death is sure to happen at unpredictable times.

Mom, hold what’s yours for one last time.

Mom, kiss your baby goodnight, the end is near.

Mom, you may not see your baby again.

Sleepless nights, one frightening phone call:

“I can’t breathe.”

And until the morning comes, hope for a better day.

America, the brave. This is the land of the dead.

This land is mine. It’s yours.

Out of the shadows, morning breaks free.

This is, us—flesh-eating animals, broke free from cages

Leaving footprints—naked.

Now, look around, look around.

What have you become?