Just As We Did

We are living in the index of a history book yet to come.

 

They can title our chapter: “Xenophobia Turned to Hatred and That Hatred Turned Fatal”. And the bones of victims of hate are thrown to the side to be forgotten. So that our grandchildren and their grandchildren will walk on those bones and make the same mistakes that we did.

They will hate what they don’t understand, just as we did.
They will turn a blind eye to injustice, just as we did.
They will sit around and let someone else solve the problems, just as we did.
They will kick those already condemned to the ground, just as we did.

Our intolerance for difference will go down as our defining characteristic. No matter how progressive we are, we will be remembered for the hatred. We will get blamed for the social mess of our country that has been brewing for years and years. They will read how there were nearly 150 school shootings in less than two years. They will read the name Sandra Bland, and the hundreds of other names of people of color who have been killed by the ones who are supposed to protect our nation. They will write papers about how politicians take advantage of people’s fear, and then they’ll think “wow, how convenient. This perfectly relates to what Adolf Hitler did in the 1930’s and now I’ve got a solid synthesis essay on my hands.”

What we’re living right now will become what they watch boring videos on in history class, and they’ll stop paying attention.

 

Just as we did.

 

Just as we did we learned of all the atrocities of the world, yet didn’t seem to learn much from them. They’ll doze off in class, and then go home just to perpetuate the hate. Our only hope is that someone is reading us. They are reading about how all these people moved to Canada when they got scared about who was running their country instead of staying behind and fighting. Fighting until the end, even if that means fighting until we go down in flames. Fighting for our grandchildren and their grandchildren. Our chapter doesn’t have to be over. Please don’t let generation Z get written down as the ones who twiddled their thumbs to conversate with too much punctuation and poorly constructed sentences while the greedy ones manipulated us down into ashes. Don’t let them spit their venom about how lazy and entitled we are, because we are so much more than that. We have to read our own history books. We have to understand our own history, to assure that the history we are creating is full of acceptance for everyone. We have to remember those who died at the hand of hatred. Our history book isn’t over.

I want a goddamn happy ending.  For my grandchildren, and their grandchildren.

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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