Those Who Know Suffering And Still Suffer.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

to live in a gooseflesh
is not easy. Mind you, it is
horribly cold and traumatically
ugly.

well, not knowing it is a blessing.
the thing that you do not know
cannot hurt. But that place of gooseflesh
is always there and you are always there
living in its horror and trauma.

be glad that you have not known about it.
at least, for the meantime you are safe.

you are happy, unlike us. Here we are
shaking in this coldness. Traumatized in
some ways, at most, in most of all times.

you are very lucky. Your ignorance is helping
you a lot. Your world is sealed without wisdom.

you are very lucky. I will put this in my heart.
For we who have seen the horror of the light
are frightened till the end of your numbness.

we are these humans in the filth of happy pigs.
we are the pearls thrown into mud. You are blind.

Happy as you are, we will not touch you.
Be glad. You are not one of us. We live in the
silence of our grief and we are not saying anything.

We shall see you dance. We shall hear your music.
We are not dancing. We are only listening.

The children will look at us with hatred.
The old people will dismiss us. We are cursed.