Rapist, what if instead, the poor woman
pushed back your hair and let you cry.
Torturer, what if you take the body down,
put back the severed bones?
The killed may line up to touch your hand.
Stoners of women, look in your hand at the
river-smoothed, time-smoothed rock, beauty of the planet
come from the water that flows
from the eyes of our world
when they watch what is done
in the name of your belief.
Presidents, kings, prime ministers,
what if you said,
I refuse one more war,
to be rich if my people are poor. Think how kindly
they would care for you.
True believers, falling ones,
who is not a sinner in your eyes,
when you are always right
because you believe.
Bombardiers, men who send drones with bombs,
cut off your own finger if you can’t stop it from
pushing a button.
What is it that makes a man?
Perhaps it is the one word, No.