Not that any problem finds solution
or discovery shifts faith to reorient life
perhaps complexity in vanity
what left to copy but facsimile

product dictates producer
who creates worship of production
to pose an idol as origin
demanding sacrifice of body and mind.


History is the breath of God
crying for the ones
buried without memorial or memory.
It is the blood of the silenced
crying out from the soil,
disturbing the heart
with the insecurity of guilt.

Ideology is self glorification
dictating the moral and morality of authority.
As spirituality, ideology erases
the question of why
to idolize the slavery to violence.

History arrives as a whisper
relentlessly scraping the discredited
against the certain.
In its wake,
the pause accomplishes more
than any declaration pontificating pride.

Ideology shreds history
in the name of history,
worships the erasure
as if triumph constituted truth.

Seeing in the struggle to survive
the ones permanently put down,
history unearths the atrocities
over which the victorious
build their splendor.

By striving to remember the missing,
history finds faith in the evidence of doubt,
stripping itself naked before the reader,
history never offers any promise of rest.