Se7en MinutesA Poem by Marie Anzalonetitle is homage to the famous movie.You say,
grow some thicker skin, as if compassion
is a luxury we can no
longer afford in our little
corner of a world spinning too fast for writing
the consequences 20 times in chalk on
the slate in your grandpa’s woodshed. I
have inherited my mother’s
biggest audacities and her surety
that we are all doomed to repeat
the mistakes of our
descendants. We watch how
even human comets now blaze
trails across skies that contain too
much ambient neon light for the
dust they leave to be noted in
the journals of the world’s scholars. Yet, even now, sometimes,
it still happens. You hear of
something and you drop everything
because the world’s humanity itself
will unravel if you follow
orders to remain silent. Last week,
when the undocumented hidden faces
of 2800 children were not enough;
when winds 155 mph were not
enough; when 10,000 women’s survival
stories were not
enough- one man’s 7 unendurable
minutes of moments autographed in
blood on the walls of a
consulate finally moved us all to
imagine what happens when the
state calls YOU expendable. The news made
me cry this week, the news
makes me cry every damned week. I would
not exchange my thin skin for all
the dark money paid in Saudi Arabia
for the rental of one man with a
bone saw. © 2018 Marie AnzaloneAuthor's Note
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2 Reviews Added on October 18, 2018 Last Updated on October 18, 2018 AuthorMarie AnzaloneXecaracoj, Quetzaltenango, GuatemalaAboutBilingual (English and Spanish) poet, essayist, novelist, grant writer, editor, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to ta.. more..Writing
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