We have become the orphans of a broken promise.

The product of discarded point of view

that stopped being relevant the moment their mouths closed

and the hum of the ignored became louder.

 

We are the orphans of deceit, lies and digital tape,

of meaningless thought and the near dispiriting

words of gathered hope that dissipates and fades

into the wind at the breath of the merest gentle gust

that tussles with our hair, pats our shoulders with thunder

and yet is as invisible as the join between

the betrayed and the saved from harm.

 

Leave me be, I will stay behind and fire one bullet

at them in warning if it gives you time to get away,

to steal the digital proof and make it back alive,

I will fire one shot in anger

above their heads, for the fight in me is waning,

so they believe, for I don’t want to be a product,

stamped and shipped to the Orphanage

any more than you, I will not be

the creation of broken promise.

 

Ian D. Hall 2015