What. Is. It? Poem by Pasomi Mucha

Let me ask in plain language,
So that we do not say,
I missed your query in the craft of your poesy.

What is it that must have been pried loose,
Or what must have been planted,
In hearts and minds...

What is it...

For them to aim and shoot, to beat and hit, to torture,
Even unto death,
A man, a woman, someone's child?
And how do these hearts and minds keep,
Eating, drinking, seeing, feeling, even loving... How do they just keep "living"?

What is it...

For them to take a child,
Keep her for three days,
Visit unspeakable atrocities upon her innocent body,
And how do these hearts and minds,
Keep walking among us,
Working to be declared innocent,
While the victim is shamed,
Declared impure for what was done TO her?

What is it...

For a group of elders to say,
Boys will be boys, they could not control their hormones,
Let some money change hands,
Some coins for us and for the parents, that is justice, enough restitution,
For rape, for destruction of a child's body, spirit, soul,
And for declarations that she's now impure?

What is it...

For us, yes, us - you and me,
To look at all these things,
And be outraged for only as long,
As they appear on our screens and timelines,
Then we quickly forget,
Until it next happens,
Or it touches close to home, or
God forbid, it touches us personally?

What is it? !
Let's search ourselves,
That we may re-place what's pried loose,
That we may up-root the evil plantings,
And work to see,
That no more prying-loose,
No more evil-planting happens.
That we do not just remark, recall, recoil then rest uneasy,
Until it next happens,
For to remember is not just to recall.
It is to go further and do something about it.

What. Is. It?