What Do I Know?

I see what I see

Through my own eyes.

My eyes are eyes that have not

Seen through others' eyes.

Scenes of a home never seen,

Arms that once held tight,

Waves sliced and cut up by the wind,

Heart sickness and body sickness,

A new generation in a new land,

Not knowing where home is.

War that came to make things right,

But that never really did.

It prolonged

The struggle

to remember a past

And to embrace

an intolerant future.

I do see fear and ignorance,

Hate and disgust.

I see it through the eyes of those

I have never met,

Those I have,

And those I have loved,

And through my own

And in myself.

I know that I hear with my ears,

but what do I hear?

I only sense the echoes

of a past I didn't live,

Of whispers in the leaves,

Footsteps on the path,

Screams lost in the storm,

Full and heavy silence as

the eyes stare.

And stare.

And stare.

They say there were low

and deep hums in the dark

As the fires danced.

Cracks of whips, guns, and bodies,

Prayers for life

thrown up into the expanse.

I almost hear

tinny reverberations

of the microphones

Sending forth hope.

I hear words spoken and

stories told by those I never met,

by those I have,

by those I have loved.

I listen to

The words of ignorance

And stupidity coming

From my mouth.

My feet do not want to go

toward what my eyes have not seen

Nor do they want to travel toward

what my ears have nearly heard.

I'm ready to see and hear

through my own eyes and ears

The truth of what has been

And what will be.

I'm ready to be

a part of it.