“Though justice be thy plea, consider this:
That in the course of justice none of us
Should see salvation. We do pray for mercy,
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy …”
— Portia, IV, 1, from The Merchant of Venice by William Shakespeare
The kids caught in the crossfire
never stood a chance—
they just stood there,
wrong place, wrong time,
and we didn’t do a thing,
just let them die
as we chose a side,
as if it were a color
in a world of
black and white
that we should have let be
blue and green
But who would we be
to dream of peace
when we don’t stand
in the way of the war—
the innocent plead,
we ignore,
so how can
they have hope anymore?
And who would we be
to feel a thing?
If you prick us,
do we not bleed?
If you hurt us,
do we not grieve?
And if you don’t listen to us,
do we still speak?
Air raids and bombs… guns and hate—
this is neither the beginning nor the end
And it will only get worse if we wait
We’ll see soon enough even if we are blind now,
but our hands will be slow on the draw,
too little, too late:
we only do good
when the bad has already died down
Where will the refugees go
when their camps are attacked
before they can even cry out?
Which way will the world turn
when the sun sets on the other side
than the one it does right now?
I wish I knew the answers,
and I wish I could say them loud and clear,
but I can only beg, vocal cords torn,
for a fair and just end to the conflict
But I can only see it getting worse
from day to day and year to year
Yet, who would I be
to say a thing?
If you spit in my eyes,
can I still see?
If you put me in chains,
can I be free?
And if you tear out my tongue,
can I still speak?
But who are we
to be in need?
If you chase us,
do we not flee?
If you prick us,
do we not bleed?
If you prick us,
do we not bleed?
If you prick us,
do we not bleed?
If you prick us,
do we not bleed?
whether our tears are true
if they can never leave
If you prick us,
do we not bleed?
If you prick us,
do we not bleed?
whether we’re white and blue
or red, white, black, and green
Nolan Dannels is a Persian American poet/musician with a Master's in English Language and Literature from the University of Edinburgh. He is currently a Literature PhD candidate, specializing in modern and contemporary Anglophone poetry at the University of California, San Diego, where he served as the Editor in Chief of Alchemy, Journal of Translation. His poetry and music appear in Kissing Dynamite, Trouvaille Review, Wine Cellar Press, Wishbone Words, Snakeskin Poetry Webzine, and Hare's Paw Literary Journal.
