my eardrums

pulse and thrum

with a silent song

of spilled blood

 

and for this

 

I have felt the lion

tear at my womb--

 

the animal seeks escape

from the solemn fires raging

for Nanking and Wounded Knee

 

and for the final pleas

of Polish children mouthing "Mama",

 

a stab in their hearts from nurses

of a covetous foreign tongue...

 

I have closed my eyes

and heard whispers, like

open wounds, revealing

secrets and waging war

 

and openly suffered

the testament and pleasure

of our false and fragile peace

 

in the knowledge that the human ear will only hear

what it has been prepared to heed.