Every afternoon
when my shame
has not driven me
to violence

I am triumphant

says the thin boy in black

...
When I have survived
another day in the face
of this strange and
vast despair

I am victorious

says the orphaned baby
in the metal crib

...
When this generation
has not killed me
and my rivers still flow
and the soil still brings life
and there are still seasons

I will be glory itself

says the Earth who breathes
beneath our feet.

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