Orange que te quiero verde, that's Poeticah

The Visual Poetry of Poeticah explores the boundaries between poetry, languages, and traditional with computer visual art.

This is a poem from my chapbook Axtlanadu.

<<Axtlanadu>> The Deepest Handicap is Us For the suffering and the dying They feel nothing Because they have a cold vacuum Within their stark soul. For the living and the thriving They feel everything Because they thrill From making them suffer Within their dark soul. If we scorn them are we more like them? If we mourn them are we less like them? If we kill them are we more like them? If we heal them are we less like them? If they live in castles we whisper, "Innocent. They have a conscience." If they live in hovels we holler, "Guilty. They have no conscience." We will be chained and killed, Till we reach out toward them And reach in toward us, As we cry out, "Deaf! They are us. Dumb! They are us. Blind! They are us." This handicap is further Than the furthest deafness, icier Than the iciest dumbness, heavier Than the heaviest blindness. We will always have dead Women and men walking, Until we hold hands, Sisters and brothers, Touch our distant ears and whisper, "Let's reach each other," Thaw our frigid mouths and chant, "Let's warm each other," Raise our leaden eyelids and Lift one another. <<Axtlanadu>>