History will record how lamentably we failed;

the indigestible truth that money can’t buy you

love, shelter, bandages, put bread upon

a non-existent table

without safe passage.

 

History will peel away the flesh

of all our collective anguish

the hand wringing, the tears

the howling at the moon,

focussing instead

on numbers, places, dates

the bare bones in rubble

of a once promised land...

 

History will skip over details

of how people died

the burning buildings

the turkey shoot run

of parents trying to provide

stripped first of dignity

a race against

and out of time

 

And if the victors write the history books

as Churchill once said

will those scribes

ever reflect upon the irony

of history repeating,

offer comfort in platitudes

like ‘Never Again’

as shaking our heads

and drying our eyes

we silently turn the page.