The Plague

Photo by the author

It is a plague.
It planted itself in the depth of our hearts, long ago,
And turned some of us blind.

It is a plague.
It makes some of us sit in a burning room,
In silence, immune to the heat.

It is a plague.
It built marble thrones for some of us
To sit on and look down on others from the long barrels.

It is a plague.
It kills.
It makes people kill.

No.

It is not a plague.
It is us.
The plague is us.

Now the fire burns, casting shadows of the fallen on the walls
Do not let it die or their names be forgotten
Set it alight with our voices and hearts
So that it burns down the walls that drifted us apart.