Today Meets Yesterday

Have the sand grains,

flowing through my fingers

shed my past

or do they build the dunes

of my born lot-

when my crimes grow

into the size of a mountain

I, the carrier

of the virus

read through

books-

heard from mouths

of my ancestors,

their vision

Sand, when blown by the wind,

shifted grain upon grain,

waves I bury my head in-

taken from pages of the manual

trained to block my vision-

turned bloody when I acted

Monday met Friday, today.

Hat Daze