State of the Poem

Birthright

I have a right
To a piece
Of the promised land

To my own share
Of the unyielding sand
And the unending strife

To earn my daily bread
By the sweat of my brow
And the fear of history

To rise through righteous
Indignation over the claims
Of my fathers brothers

To number my seed
As the sand where
Our dignity has fallen

To our knees
By becoming what
We abhor

To slay peace
For a place to
Huddle in the sand

To lay claim to
A wasteland only to say
I have a right