The process of owning up to all of this
will be like grating our own skin –
fine white shards swirled with red

and we will say “what heroes we are,
grating our skin for the minorities
that we have done so much for already”

and I’m not sure that we will get there,
to our own sunken place,
to the terrible realizations

that persist despite our deflections;
even so the pure light of love waits
at the center of centuries of guilt,

whispers softly, “this is the way.
You must submit to the oldest truths.”

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