By Lorenht
They marched for the forty-three
Burned cars in their names, screamed
#justice.
Up in the north, crossing the river
#blacklivesmatter
Then two police were killed. Deserving.
“Con dinero baila el perro,” a saying says, but
Is it just money the dog dances for?
We are burning down, bleeding from inside.
Get out. Run. Where?
#JesuisCharlie
Red ink against the black and white:
Mocking provokes.
All those hashtags in support
Behind the screen. I am safe. I got out.
She gave the order. First Lady of Iguala, daughter, sister,
Wife of the mafia. One > Forty-three.
#soyAyotzinapa
Families cry, and in their children’s names
Take the highways, make a fortune in an hour.
Power, money, blackened souls. They won’t
Come back for it. Naked they row their boats.
Grenades and bullets. Bodies dissolved in acid.
Periodic table, just letters, numbers. Turns green.
#Yamecansé,
I am tired. So are you. Not that those
Who kill, burn and torture don’t feel the same. They do.
Like my mom used to say, “Cría cuervos y
te sacarán los ojos.” I am blind.
Love this Poem? pin it for later!
