By David Jason Oquendo

I fear that my life rests on the trigger finger of a stranger I am to entrust my safety into,
and that my face,
and my body is a target that once resembles another could bring me to my doom,
and that I am in the middle of a war I never wished to be a part of,
and that my family and my friends are in that war,
and that we are divided,
and that our mouths no longer create the sound they used to,
and that our ears are becoming more eager to hear gunshots,
and that it has become normal to kill and be killed,
and that if you did nothing wrong, you don’t have to worry,
you’re just going to accept that you’re going to get killed,
either by the government, by someone you do not know,
and it’s okay.
Tell me, please, if you’re so adamant on making me shut up,
if you’re convinced that there always must be a trade-off,
that the world operates in binary logic,
tell me,
if this is a war, where do we evacuate?

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