the still-beating things

|

I
“Are you brainwashed?” they ask,
“Are you religious?” 

curious, probing.
I am neither. 

The truth is too grueling
to pin down. 

Isn’t cruelty drawn to us,
as we are to greed?

II
Blinded by comfort, choked by reason
too risky to express
a treason.
Questions,
answers left to chance.
The day withers away, sine die.
I consume my pulse,
quench thirst on hopeful wishes
why 

why,

does the breeze bring pain,
Thrumming, searing, a hollow drum?

III
Skins of the past, guilty, unforgiving rot.
We beg forgiveness, except 

it’s not.
Crushed children, never buried 

deep enough.

The earth rejects them, harsh and rough.
These chords ought to be preserved in brine.

The blind stay silent, mute stay blind,
The deaf dig graves they’ll never find.
Hands of denunciation strike undefended flesh.
The system groans, collapsing under
the weight of those above. 

IV
My belief is in myself, alone.
Shame the demons? No.

Let them drown in the mire of their making;
I had always been beneath the storm.


Part of the problem.

Writer – Sophia Kong
Editor – Romi Feng
Artist – Joyce Xu

–August 2025–

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