Underground Water Trauma-National

roots of scarcity arched in directions right-handed and southern
postmarks like a manufactured date to grant or convey liability
charming ethereal singing posing without the assist of voices

now that I have given you the doctored scream of myself
please note that I am not a danger to your way of life,
or so says the dog and wolf in unison, trembling at Noem

ICE is against God or all that is good in harmony with aptitude
1000 whips never line the streets like streams of matter
so called I tell the witnesses of heaven to arrive today, now

never have I been so blessed to be at a distance from danger
for the first time in my life what goes on in the larger world
has not come crashing down on me, or my physical safety

however, my trauma resurfaced in full force, demanding
I am an abandoned child in Kmart once again never willing
the screams, the thought broadcasting, the willow hunting

the underground water seizes the roots, the marches on and on
I have asked if marches do any good, but we cannot know
what pain they have avoided because of the fact of avoidance

the disabled are the first killed, those most often gunned down
how can I speak for my sisters and brothers, only knowing symptoms,
invisibility, abuse, exploitation, ritualized neglect, all of it intentional,
but it is in the symptomology that all surfacing contrast blooms
so that one day our chorus might bring the attention of mercy

reality is not so liminal that we might find egress in a sage
or a song, or a drunken chamber-leader calling out for those not there
we can only patronize what is not working, not knowing a course to act
the thrust of a wicked nation that does not care or want righteousness
we can only bind ourselves to each other, a matrimony of secrets