Sainted Martyrs and Forgotten Dead
Oct 29 2023
There are facts.
We even agree on some.
But these are a pile of sun-dried bones,
not the flesh and blood animal
roaring loudly
right now,
on its hind legs, towering over us
close enough to smell
its foul breath.
One truth
but different narratives,
and we are are prisoners to them.
So instead of bones
— half-buried
bleached white
marrow hollowed out —
it’s wolverine vs bear;
a pack of hyenas, teeth-bared
darting in and out
at a wounded lioness.
While our backs are bent
under the weight of history,
the sorry litany
of grievance and resentment
injustice and oppression
ancestral memory.
The war stories
of sainted martyrs
and forgotten dead
we imbibed with mother's milk.
And any writer knows
the power of story.
Of morality plays
a hero's quest,
the triumph of the underdog;
whatever truth there was
corrupted
embellished
lost.
But half truths
sound plausible
are so are worse than lies.
While lies of omission
slip by
as if nothing was missed.
There are two sides
to every story
often more.
But we're at home
among our kind
and trust only ours.
Perhaps, in generations
— when the flesh has decomposed
and only bones are left —
the truth may be known.
But I doubt this.
Because history is never final;
it's used, misused, forgotten,
weaponized
and selectively recalled.
And even when it does seem settled
— written in books, and taught in school —
don't be fooled,
because there is no definite article
when it comes to this
the cherished narrative.
It's not the truth, but a truth;
and always the one
we wanted to hear.
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