Shame

By Amy Kaplan

What is real? Nature is complex in her simplicity. Take one piece out, she dies. Maybe slowly but, she dies. The survival of invasives, impossible to eradicate, are the proof of her death. Called “invasive,” why?

Your comments are cruel and useless. The mirrors crack when you pass by. Shatter when you look in them, wounding all within range. You see nothing. You hold your righteous weapon. Always. You are your enemy and your enemy is you. Flying shards of glass. A shower of deadly dust. You keep holding your righteousness, your weapon, while wrapped in someone else’s flag passing out books no one asked for, to educate, to liberate. Let me tell you: the solution is the destruction.

“I want the details,” you demand while everyone sits, cowed. Cowed. Later, after you march out, righteous, one person cries. She says, “I can’t do this.” We hold her, offer her food.

The details are, what is real is: nature is complex in her simplicity. Take one piece out, she distorts, she dies. She dies slowly. The invasives thriving in her empty space do not indicate success or validate you.

Look around you, now. Lay down your weapon. You will not, ever. Not until every almost blooming flower is smashed and the pollinators are forever gone and still you will persist and persist. Shame.