Technicolor on the television
our memorabilia reflecting
that our father's father's (father's)
alliance was not based on the same
wants needs expectations
of our allies...
And today I sit in a sea wider
Broader than the Atlantic that frothed
at Nomandy when my "grandfather"
the beaches soon to be wet with
a fluid that is NOT ocean
contemplate wonder self-doubt
me as ally...
My ancestral family rose up out of
Normandy and conquered and pillaged
over those whose father's fathers were kings
In the name of our own prides
to subjugate the pride of a culture still rebuilding from
the last invasion...
I have to ask myself if their blood runs
too hot within my veins? Does it
my heart beats, my ancestral privilege?
Does conquest or obliviousness run in the
double helix of my fathers and again
As my Grandfather's brothers walked into
a camp teeming with death unpredicted-
did they feel the foot of their soul sink
into the quicksand of realization?
Or did they allow pride to restablize
them as heros....?
When we cast our roles as heros
denying how we conquest or ally without
how is that any different than the ignorance
we declare ourselves fighting to conquer?
Good things do sometimes come from our ignorances-
but should they?