Relatable Relics Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Fading are the echoes.
Heard through chambers,
Where relics dusted sit.
Traveled from distances to visit,
By those clinging onto the past.
Wishing to relive,
A hopeful renovation...
To update and restore,
A life lived gone.
Yet want back to again have.

Many claim to hear voices,
Of their ancestors begging.
'Distrust the diversity.
Disregard the truth that appears.
Demand you must.
The turning back the clock.
Block and stop you must,
A removal of our presence.
Ignore those changes.
Refuse them to trust.'

And...
They leave those chambers.
Traveled from distances to visit.
Belligerent and protesting.
Their diminishing presence.
And valued ignorance to treasure.
On the horizon dimming,
As a future to see it...
Is beyond to make it clear.

There will be no voting it away.
There will be no rivals,
To prevent it coming to stay.
Nor will there be,
Spooky echoes to imitate them heard.
From a past long gone to have faded.

As difficult for many it will be to accept,
These times today we live...
Are not ruled by Vikings.
Or Pharoahs sitting on golden thrones.
Allowing slaves claimed to have built,
Tremendous pyramids.
Their freedom to permit,
A doing what they wish.
To do without approval.
Whether or not,
Their chosen activities are acknowledged.
Done to provide them immediate benefit.

"Who do you people believe you are? "

-The people who built,
The thrones upon which you sit.
The growers of the food of which you feed.
The builders of the roads you travel on.
The creators of inventions you have stolen.
And the backs you have cracked.
To stand upon pretending,
You are 'all of that'-

"Okay!
But know this...
I asked one question.
And not once did I request,
For historic details and specifics!
Geessshhh.
I didn't expect to be the one,
Left to feel such embarrassment.
You could have at least waited,
Until after the press conference."