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In these times
In these times, the dead multiply
like Jesus multiplied the fish,
and it can be more dangerous
to dare to call out an injustice
than to take justice into your own hands.
In these times, not only do the living kill,
the dying kill as well.
They slowly kill those who remain,
those who had to bury them,
if there was even anything left to bury.
In these times, weapons kill you, or words kill you.
Either the big fish swallows you in one gulp,
or the sardines devour you slowly,
but he who does not swim
ends up at the bottom or floating on the surface.
In these times, looking someone in the eye
can be cause for death,
and speaking up is signing your own sentence;
and sometimes one goes to funerals
knowing who will be next.
In these times, the dead come in series,
and one is enough to infect a family,
and fill a cemetery.
In these times, agreements are signed,
and bodies are harvested,
justice is demanded and fear is received,
and one knows better what to expect from the murderers,
than from those who ought to apprehend them.
In these times, so gullible and yet so skeptical,
we have been raised to believe
there is something after all this,
we have been taught to be good
so as not to go to hell.
In these times, we still go to mass on Sundays
to aspire to heaven,
and we eat the body of Christ and drink his blood,
with the naturalness that comes
from having tasted that of so many dead.
In these times, prayers no longer take effect
or they work too slowly, and meanwhile,
there is nothing left but to keep fighting (or writing),
so as not to end up being just another story on the news.
©bonzopoe, 2025.
Thank you very much for reading this post and dedicating a moment of your time. Until next time and remember to leave a comment.
