there are things we don’t talk about around the dinner table
but it’s there, there’s no mistaking it festering like a hot boil
it can’t be hidden behind smiles anymore because we know what you are
even if you hold titles like dad or mom or baby brother
we see your hypocrisy, your racism and deep-seated hatred
as you pass the potatoes with a smile, your bigotry translated
behind carefully crafted words of inclusion and tolerance
words you know nothing about so it’s best if you remain silent
for there’s no more hiding no matter how hard you try to convince us
actions speak louder than words. what else is there to discuss?
it’s a different world out there
a sense of darkness lingers in the air
where hatred and prejudice have claimed the day,
where humanness and compassion have lost their way
will hatred win and will love lose?
what now should our children choose
when words of hatred spew from everywhere
from mouths of leaders who do not care?
where courageous acts go unnoticed
indifference reigns, a sad prognosis
for the world that once was, nothing but a dream now
how do we move on? I no longer know how.
via Daily Prompt: Reprieve
When my 7-year-old son asked his father today
what the Museum of Tolerance was,
“It’s a scary place, son. And creepy, too,”
he replied with barely a second’s pause.
“You’ve never even been there,” I told him,
“You have no idea what you’re saying.
For even though history may at times be scary and creepy,
there are events in the world we can’t bear repeating.”
“He needs to know what happened,
we can’t allow the guilty wipe the slate clean.
He needs to know everything he can about tolerance,
its meaning, its virtues, and the world that could have been
if only people stopped being hateful,
ignorant, and full of prejudice,
for our son needs to know that now,
before someone else tells him for us.
For history is now being rewritten,
and we cannot let them wipe the bloodied slate clean
We need to remember and never forget
all the things that happened, every ounce of hatred felt and seen.