Museum of Photographic Art
“We are not going to be importing activists into the United States”
Rubio told reporters.
“An activist is someone who actively campaigns for social or political change”
Humans, Rights, and Education are impressive nouns to school the Global South
But such words are frowned upon Here, Now..
Students are punished, outcast, deported, or detained
“Big ideals—but don’t try them at home”
High-definition photographs float across the web—rare earth elements on glass—
Unlike MoPA’s gelatin silver on paper. But the agony is the same.
“Human Conflict” is no suitable title for a dying child’s screams in a parent’s arms
Or an activist trying to take a stand for that child
From exhibition walls to Facebook walls
The world has transformed into an open Museum of Photographic Art
Screaming, crying, dying kids besieged on a sacred prophetic land
The news anchors look straight into my eyes
And it all turns into a carefully orchestrated rhapsody
With long trails of empty/substitute words
How such facts can still entertain, I couldn’t really understand
As life is singing a different song, in a rather unfamiliar tone—
Less like beach waves, more like an ash-cloud
The sounds from “No Other Land”, “Where Olive Trees Weep”
Less like “rock-a-bye baby,” more like a broken bone
It bangs, blasts, and blows—Loud like the erasure of an entire city,
Soon to be followed by many more. But slower now, muffled
Like the remorseful confession of an accomplice, hushed
Like the indifferent gaze of a bystander, blunt
Like eight billion silent betrayals, trending
On screen a kitten story pops up and fills all the empty space
Existing between me and reality, where nightmares keep seizing and melting people away.
glopowrimo day 16
https://www.napowrimo.net/day-sixteen-12/
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