I think of all the mathematicians, the scientists
sewing cheap, poor quality clothing
I think of all the poets, the artists
assembling expensive, short-lived electronics
I think of all the teachers, the professors
pulling rickshaws along the stray gravel
I think of all the engineers, the architects
making the same hotel beds, scrubbing the same hotel floors
I think of all the judges, the attorneys
slowly falling apart in the silver mines
I think of all the journalists, the truth tellers
picking fruit from dawn to dusk
I think of all the builders, the crafters
sweating away their dreams in the laundries
I think of all the nurses, the doctors
rummaging daily through the garbage dumps
I think of all the thinkers, the visionaries
their bodies rented out to tourists
Are these lotteries of birth and border any semblance of justice?
Is this model of this machine the best offer we have to those who are not us?
Can you honestly say this system is worth fighting for
rather than fighting past?
I think of all the humans
who can look at all that has been stolen from our human story
and answer yes.