Our Progeny.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

there are so many things that we cannot really have
sometimes we complain, feeling the injustice, disgruntled over
an unfairness,

when we were young, we wage a rebellion,
about a system that did not satisfy our longings, that give us pain

many died, the system is cruel, many suffered, because they are
too unforgiving,

those who still live, spend their dignities in prison cells
hidden from the light of the sun, the promises of the day,

we who live in the silence of our disgust have chosen the silence
we too suffer,
we die so many deaths everyday
we want to bury ourselves
but our progeny stopped us

now we are attuned for all the other things that we cannot have
we embraced more silence, we have become numb and we claim some slices
of this wisdom

in our hearts we cultivate this culture of indifference
like rats deprived of our fields, we transfer from one hollowness to
another

the things that we cannot have have become more real
as real as our tired hands, our fed up brains, our decimated human
existence

we have worked so hard, yet the things that we cannot have
still remained hanging above us like ripe fruits beyond the reach of our calloused hands


we begin to accept these things that we cannot really have
we bowed to their being unreachable, we focus our sights on the ground, soft, dry sands,

we take a handful, and all of them slip from the hold of our palms from the slits of our fingers

we have so much of these things now, and they have become innumerable.
our young who have become bold and brave shall come in, to repeat
what we have started, and unless they win

we still can never have them.