Where else but the echo of words?

I.
Where else do we go?
Except towards the echo of words?
To look up and find smoke
To lay down and seek the comfort of the sky.

Where else do i go?
Except towards the echo of words?
Because oppression has taught me more about myself than any classroom,
I am here yet again;
pen to paper.

Oppression keeps me alive,
It keeps my eyes moving.
It reminds me of who i am,
In the midst of secular politics
And silent preachers,
It keeps me woke.

Because I come from a land of oppression
Born out of an oppressed people
I feel nothing more than the need to remind myself of that oppression,
Because oppression drives the need to breakaway from the state of silent devils.

II.
So,
Look and weep,
Towards the demise of humanity,
The easy and sweet sound of morality,
buried under the soft bodies butchered in abhorrence.
May is dead and dark,
No light shall pass through the 3rd.

At her funeral;
humanity is a sole witness;
Isolated and haunted
by the tall figure of lusty politics,
bound to no heart and mind.

And one day,
On a fine Spring evening in early May,
When you rest to sip your tea,
And when your child asks you,
"What happened here?"
May the guilt of Genocide,
May the guilt of Hatred
Run cold down your spine
As your lips fail to answer the lingering thoughts;
"I did that, I allowed that to happen,
We did that, we allowed it all to happen".

___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Quoting Funeral Blues by WH.Auden-
as you die in silence of the guilt of your repercussions,
may the heavens above and the ground below,
shudder the living memory of your sins.
"The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good."