When the rivers in the land of plenty
run red with death, and the language
that describes them has been poisoned,
made unfit for human use,
then generosity has turned for the worse,
it has been inverted. It is irredeemable,
unfit even for slightest recycling.
Who then will choose the only roles left
-the wounded who can't help themselves
as they live out their woundedness?
Or their false accusers and comforters
who wound others, and defend their actions
with bland rhetorical reassurances?
Who then will resist being the victim,
persecutor, and rescuer where to resist
we have to escape the circular arguments
in the new, Olympic level, blame games?
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