Cleansing

Someday the land will subside beneath the sea
	Hiding the rocks that Hiroshima was built on.
		But the shadows printed on stone will remain

Someday the ocean will again cover the land
	That once held up the chimneys of Auschwitz
		But the ashes will still be there, between layers
                       of mud.

Someday water will again cover
	Srbenica and Sarajevo, Rwanda and Cambodia.
		But the blood stains will not be washed away

The earth itself will move, in vain.
Our songs are better bandages for our self-inflicted wounds
	Than dirt or water.
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