A people are running out from the pages
Their loads are heavy, their voices weary
If you turn away and don’t look at them,
They fade into a whisper.
A people are erasing their history
A memory of pain, a page of anger
They know rage explodes suddenly
And sometimes spill over them, like acid.
A people want me to forget
They don’t want their story told
But oblivion is a faraway fantasy they cannot die in
Until I write with my blood and tears.