Our Makers’ Children

Quarry your guilt from the earth,soul

slipped to the Makers’ children

–queer in root curiosity and frothing of

polypeptides and a code punched time card

– buried deep in that well most certainly

is at least one ounce of wisdom

carry it swiftly to your lips lest the Gods

trick your logic, consternating truth

with the convenience of fiction

and remember…

Where the young grass grows

Underneath you will find many eyes closed

Many fragments of lives

For underneath lie the regrets of forgetful peace

Regrets of the weeping who

In turn found hope abrupt and

Without meaning

 

Our Makers’ Children is a play on the possessive. All religions, less philosophies such as Confucianism, claim exclusive relation to the divine. The possessive play draws attention to this absurdity. If there were such things as right and wrong in this sense, it is much more likely that they are all wrong than one being right. The poem brings to light the propensity of humans to disregard objective logic in favor of convenient fiction in order to perpetuate internal biases. Participating in exclusion allows one to feel closer to a smaller subset of righteousness. The poem reminds us at what cost we perpetuate our own righteousness.

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