Haikus in a Genocide Our Country is Responsible For

You know there’s war when
people ask to adopt the
orphans on the news.

They won’t mention the 
orphan’s family except to 
say they’re dead and gone. 

Pretending to be 
a saviour is easier 
than being honest.

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*I grew up a Mennonite. A believer of pacifism.

Non-violence in every situation. Non-resistance as a response to violence.

Even if that meant you had to re-define violence so you could claim to be outside of it. Even if that meant abandoning earthly problems in preparation for a heaven that is above this pain and suffering.

Even if that meant you died. You let someone else die. Or you turned away as your name is used to justify killing.

I grew up a Mennonite. I grew out of it when I saw what this living world asked of me.

I grew up adopted. Saved. Or whatever people say when they don’t want to sit with grief. I was an orphan. I mean, I am an orphan. I guess. I’ll never really know.

I know that parents disappear. They die. They let you go. You let them go. But we hate talking about parents who are killed. We hate talking about the parents we kill.

It’s easier to call it a war and inquire about adopting out of the wreckage.