CONFESSION ZERO

They lay upon the streets choking on their own. Mounds of people desolate in their being.

Wait.
And breathe in again.
Kicked in the gut; split like lumber. This is a home. Animals have a home.

Wait.
And breathe in again.
Boxes propped up in the rain. Empty cans rot. Feeding is done. Could they have hunger? Is it ours that they’re hungry?

Wait.
And breathe in again.
Displaced assassination. Soul tainted by remark. Hold. The starving soul echoes back and lives in our queried gaze. Is this anyone’s “life”?

Wait.
And breathe in again.
Shoes leaking dirt on new snow. Fingers hold paper canopy encasing country’s dishonor. This is not a life, is it? I think it is best to live.

Wait.
And breathe in again.
Perhaps the hand will move. Will hope spring? Will death take notice of this? Will the good in man change them? Will our naked shame bow softly? Will we course this toward nurturing? Will the hope of man succumb to hunger? Will the pride of man not rip itself from within? Might it begin? Has…

"I am a veteran of WW II, I served my country as well as my fellow Veterans. I, along with my wife, need our SS and Medicare to survive. Cutting the budget would put our lives into a great deal of hardship. We are senior aged. At Pearl Harbor I was ready and able to put my life on the line for my country. Sir, I don't believe this administration has the moral right to repay the seniors like myself with cutting our means of survival by cutting the budget."
—George, NC


It is not enough that you served with honor.
It is not enough that you died for the cause.
It is only enough that you are most willing
to die over and over until death has no loss
`til it finds passage through the vein of self
torturing you through its very pounding

How dreaded and parched is your termination?
How outrageous and bloodied damp are theirs?

How might we know the horror of your plight
without looking deeper than the beggar’s eyes,
without examining infinitely the empty corpse,
without narrowing …