With every missile's thud
I am diminished
As every shot rings out
I am weakened
and my foundations washed away
by the blood of slaughter.
We've learned nothing.
We've learned nothing,
except that hell is here and now and for some
who slide down history's muddy slopes
while we fidget uncomfortably.
We've washed our language
Tide-bright
words like "cleansing" seem a household chore.
It's genocide.
We've learned nothing.
Shall we wait till numbers rise
past Rwanda's bloody purge
and Cambodia's "correction"
to invent new words for death-by-numbers?
