Who is at the table
negotiating peace?
A trans man
bares his brave chest
Is his flesh not
our flesh?
Indigineous mothers
cry for lost daughters
Is their plight
not our plight?
Shopkeepers moan
how long can we endure
the inequities
of an indifferent eye?
Child of mine
what future awaits
as I watch our progress
slide, painfully in reverse?
I want to be a beacon
of encouragement
believe that harmony
even exists
But the noise
in the streets
is deafening
truths trampled
The false prophets
the politicians
the blinding pull
of greed
There are none at the table
but anarchy’s decoys.
One Woman's Quest 