LET’S MOVE IT ALONG, FOLKS

In the camps in Sudan, we are told, the women were the ones who ventured out to forage for firewood because they would be raped if they were caught but perhaps, unlike the men, not shot. In the basements where breathing stopped with the pauses in the bootsteps of the Gestapo overhead, we are told, someone had to be prophet enough to strangle the babies. In Gaza, babies, crying or not, die in hospitals that a powerful nation methodically bombs for the sake of its survival, so it tells us. In our time and our place, those who cry out for the world from the luxury of complicit guilt are told to stop beating themselves up and stay off manicured lawns.