World War III

My mother is not dying 

But as distant brothers and sisters lose their living 

I can’t help but imagine her memory slipping

Unable to recount bad days in Burbanay

Singing songs of found peanuts in the rain

 

How do you reconcile being one in a million 

Shouting silently in a sea of the same 

Seeing seasons of violence but only shouting one name

 

 “Support us now for when your democracy falls

While we take steps to kill them all”