Long, Hard Look Poem by Donatien Moisdon

We come from the true Dark Ages
and look around like savages
for the blood of forgotten crimes.

Not one of us whose ancestors
haven't tortured, stolen, betrayed.

Fifty thousand years ago,
my dog barked at the desert's edge;
his shiny, naked fangs guarding
decaying bones hidden in sand.

I am still, by instinct, an angry animal
and my cruel, confused, desperate origins
could, one day, with your lives, pay for my liberty.