Monday, 2 February 2015

A new poem about the Chosen People

I'm interested in how being abused becomes a pattern that gets handed down to following generations. And the way in which it distorts one's sense of who one is. I know this poem may offend many- but it is just what came.


We were singled out
And told we were special.
Always Special – no matter how it hurt.
We were the Ones.

You never lose that, you know,
When Daddy comes to you in the middle of the night
And teaches you special things –
You know you are Chosen.

When they choose you for pain,
You know you are unique.
That so commonplace act
Is your sign and badge.

This planet is soaked in the blood
Of mass graves and holocausts.
But for us, it is who we are,
We and Daddy-God at-one.

We wail our lamentations
And are thrilled to the bones.
It is the bitter herb
That feeds our souls.

Only we, among the slaughtered millions,
Know that this is our Special Destiny.
We were promised, no matter how he hurts us,
We are blessed among nations.

Turn your eyes from the others.
The lessons learned are not about them.
Hate us! Smear the walls of our temples.
We are Chosen – always us. 

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