When I read about the storming of Capitol Hill in Washington DC, I was first overcome by disbelief. There is absolutely no going back from that breach. Soon after, I went down a rabbit hole of news. When I came up for air a couple of hours later, I realised that the gumption white folk feel in America is uncannily similar to how upper caste folk feel in India. As you know, I am supposed to have written Chapter 5 of Every Thing We Are. Instead, I wrote this poem, essentially to collect my thoughts and calm my mind. Hope you will take the time to let me know what you think.
The Death of Disbelief
I know the truth about you, America
Where ‘Black Lives Matter!’ needs to be said.
Your Proud Boys—you’ll never
Say their names—terrorists, terrorists!
It’s their ‘constitutional right’ afterall,
to storm Capitol Hill.
What great country pits their citizens in corners
Against each other in a grayscale dual,
One maimed systemically, the other unleashed?
When you let them storm the Capitol
You pillaged through my last defense:
my disbelief. I can’t breathe.
By letting these supremacists occupy Congress
You undermined the supremacy
Of your institutions; of our institutions.
You belittled democracy today.
You also made a believer of me.
I believe anything is possible now. Anything.
If your superpower is under siege,
How can I sleep in peace tonight?
My country, my house, my body
Is no match. It’s up for grabs,
For anyone with the right
surname, religion, skin colour.
You have broken through that thin plexiglass
That separates us from the cavemen
exhibit at your Natural History Museum.
Society is a construct. Civilization is a myth.
I can see that clearly now.
The fog of decency has lifted.
You are free to sleep with a child
And grow humans for their organs.
Your country, like mine has become autoimmune,
Eating its own people, spitting out hate.
This street is Anarchy.
Ten houses down is Annihilation.
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