ex post facto

I have been accused of burying myself beneath layers of fear and uncertainty obscured from a world created outside the realm of my ownI ask that you allow me this brief indulgencealthough your accusations may not be denied, neither will my skin be baredexposed to the stones that you might throw Permit me instead to argue my lucidity,describing a world with no necessity for warwhere mothers need not fear the thought of sons becoming menA moment when we did not crave an explanation of our existencewondering why we fought so arduously for other worlds and peoplewhile ignoring our own, slowly crumbling at its edges At the risk of imitating lectureI would remind you of the way a child views the world,of how we once were able to view it as welluntil it exploded in a matter of minutesand terror seeped from our poresthick as black, billowing smoke obscuring skiesclouding our own definition of libertyrobbing even our children of innocence and purity that day We once possessed a confidence some now consider ignorancea confidence now replaced by doubt, suspicion, and condescendenceReligion or race, it does not matter, difference is condemnation once again I do stand guilty of tuning out a worldwhich screams in my face of duty and rightswhile whispering revenge and Armageddon from behind a shadowed handYet, before you doubt that I am listening, or believe that I am livingin oblivion, trust that I hear all, observe allevery nuance is stored behind these eyesYou cannot charge me with nescience, nor indict me for turning away You can keep your world of hate and indiscretionwallow in it and believe that you are just and trueFrom the safety of my walls, I will watch as carnage rips the seams,struggling to keep the realm of my world intact, no matter how small My children will know innocence and objectivity, for I will teach them eachthey will also be wise to the ways of this world we now inhabitwithout allowing it to poison their hearts, minds, or soulsThey will understand the definition of equality,not just by rote, but by influence Mere layers separate your world from mine,thin as parchment and just as fragilecreated not out of fear or uncertainty, but knowledge, promise,and something else; a world it seems we have all forgotten ...Hope.