Ignorance Boxes
I stood with the masses
Shouting and cursing at the foot of the steps.
I erupted with the others as the kings appeared.
Sweeping forward with a fanfare of smoke and fire.
Cold and hard against the flames.
Loudly they called forth
"Do you want the ignorance boxes?"
Reckless affirmation was our response.
I hollered madly with them.
Demanding.
Appealing.
Begging.
Begging for the box I needed to live.
To live dead amongst my peers.
You told me you would be absent.
You lied.
Your lie killed me.
Your lie killed you.
Even as you held your book above your head.
Even as you shunned the kings.
The Gods.
All their propagandistic gospel.
You were dead.
A dead man speaking
As if more alive than the air and water
The kings smiled down at you.
You spit at their feet.
Their thunderous whisper of death rang in my ears.
You died in defiance.
Curling in the position that once
(when you had lived)
had sheltered you for Nine months.
Even as their calloused feet shattered your bones
Even as they tore at your flesh with claws of steel
Your breath spouted cruel blasphemy against the kings.
At last your bloodied corpse gave up your dead tree.
I stood with the masses
Tearing pages from their secure binding
Ripping them in anger
Begging for forgiveness
Begging for our boxes.