psalm 82: the man in the cubicle

while the refugee collects
scrap metal and copper wire,
the man in the cubicle counts down the seconds
then watches the camp disappear
in a tiny puff of black and white dust.

that’s all you are, you know, just
a bureaucrat in a cubicle
moving your joystick to the right and left
looking down at the worlds
you create and destroy.

how long will you stagger
in this state of willful darkness,
blindly defending the indefensible and
rationalizing away the unthinkable?

how long will the judge of all the earth
behave so unjustly?

the refugee farmer spits on the ground,
looks up and squints into the sun.
smiling for a camera he cannot see
he says,

those who dwell on high
will die like mere mortals,
they will sputter and fall like
every other ruler before them.

though this injustice is too much for me
to bear, i will not break.
even as your hellfire missiles rain down
i patiently await the final verdict.

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3 Comments on “psalm 82: the man in the cubicle”

  1. Anne Ryan says:

    Very wise and very beautiful in a terribly sad way.

  2. abunaalgodon says:

    For me too … “too much for me to bear ….” Particularly since we wield the joy stick and fire the missile.

  3. gwpj says:

    Reblogged this on Musings by George Polley and commented:
    Profound, deeply disturbing, and a beautiful poem all in one.


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