The Patriarch Poem by Josephine Dunn

You have taken my name
Numbered me
Photographed from front and side
Processed me
One of many.
You have stripped me bare
Shaved my hair
Searched and probed inside.
Blind eyes need no light
They see what they expect,
Harsh questions give no respite
Closed minds give no respect
Hard hearts pass hopeless judgement
With no right of appeal.

Homeless
Landless,
Childless
Friendless.

You take ownership by force
Violate the privacy of my being,
The world cracks
Beneath my feet
As you tug and pull
This way and that
Arguing
Instilling fear
Thinking I do not understand
Do not even hear.

I am nothing to you
For that is what you have made
Me.

Stateless,
Speechless,
Worthless,
Less than the blood under your nails.
You expect me to be grateful,
Humble,
Subservient,
Servile,
Servant,
Slave
To your will.

I will not.

You have made me thus.
Your righteousness ignored my cries,
Your greed took the bread
From my children’s mouths,
Your rage killed my friend,
Your anger kindled fires while
Your selfishness watched my land burn,
Your jealous hands kept comfort from me,
Your avaricious desire raped me,
Your sloth left me to die.

And did you do this
In the name of God?
For King and Country?
For the good of the State?
For purity of race?
In pursuit of divine grace?

I call you liar!
Coward!
Thief!
Deceiver!

Too conditioned to hear the truth,
Too scared to speak your mind,
Too weak to earn respect,
Deceiver even unto yourself.

Let me tell you something.

You have taken everything I was,
Everything I had.

Except my soul.

Now my very being will rebuke you
Each breath will whisper guilt
Every day of my life
All your waking moments
And beyond.

Now you believe I am your slave,
You must clothe my nakedness,
Clutch me to your bosom,
Suckle me as your own babe.
You must build a roof over my head
Your fire must keep me warm.
You must re-educate me
And my children
And my children’s children.
You must watch each unsteady step
Hold my hand when I falter
Pick me up when I fall.
You must wash away my tears,
Calm my deepest, darkest fears.
There is no escape from my cries
If I am your slave.
Or so you believe.

Now you must do
As your Duty
What you could have done
For Love.
Your desire for power is its own punishment
The sin itself, your purgatory,
Your greed a whip to beat yourself with
Your selfishness the walls of your prison,
Your cowardice a warder watching through the bars,
Your lies a harpy chorus that echo in your mind
Your anger burns inside you
But can not melt the fear
The icy dagger wielded by the one
Who stalks behind.

And if you say,
“That is not me,
I did my job,
I tried to be fair,
It was not me,
I was not there!
I followed the rules,
I only did as I was told.

Does that make it right?
Should I give up without a fight?
Do you feel vindicated,
Free from taint,
Clear of blame?
Look again!

Judge thyself
For whatever you feel,
I am only the mirror
Of what YOU have become,
Only a reflection
Of all you have done.

November 2003