What Will We Take

What will we remember
from this time?
Will it be like
every other heartbreak?

Will it be like
every other misery,
ten,
twenty,
two hundred years down the road?

Will time dull the sharp pieces,
wear down the razor edges,
blur the contrast?
I had gotten used to the misery of it.
I am ashamed to realize
I had grown used to the anguish,
and wore it like some comforting blanket.

The grief and loss
had become so much of my identity.
Too much of me.
Too much of us.

We’re all in this together,
aren’t we?

With the dead rising higher around us,
enough to block out the sun,

what big bastard are we going to let lead us forth,
just because he gets us the food?