What Can I Do?

The pessimism that comes with realising oppression.

What can I do?

All around me I see

the poverty

the despair of calamity.

My blood, subjected to tyranny

of an invisible enemy.

What can I do?

My sister cries and dies;

Are these but only buzzing flies

that upset "the peace":          lies

of a complacent coward!

What can I do?

"Be grateful, you are lucky;

do you know how many

of your family

would kill to be 

enjoying this sanctity,"

a shield of immunity;

An evil we refuse to see.

What can I do?

Empty words that flee

a mind only beginning to see;

what more do I offer to thee,

than heartbroken philosophy?

Word made flesh by divinity,

a power not blessed to me. 

My words remain empty,

occupying a space void of empathy.

Your words ring loudly:

"It was all in the past, you see. 

What right do we

have to describe, to feel

a pain that befell our ancestry?"