This narrative colludes with the concept of Universal Healthcare and the minority groups who are affected by it due to the aged and misguided presentation of it’s resistance. With the collision of different back cultures, comes an intertwined story of sorrow and grief for those who recently have been brought to adapt to modern day America.
The Ghost of Sorrow
Surrogated from war, my generation is young and in the midst of discovery. The unannounced numbers of Mais and Tous and Niams and Txivs that can never be reclaimed; their names lost in the jungles by the titan’s cups, were blood and kin. But yet we buried with honor, the soldiers of this invading country without expectation so that they can navigate in the spirit world to the comforting arms of their ancestors and mothers — to their kings and warriors who’ll defend them from their grievances. That they can speak to them about a diminishing but brave and proud people who loved others as their own in the material world.
So unprepared we were, for the discourtesy provided for our sacrifice. That when we landed on their poached territories they called us unsung heroes, but when we bleed on it, they say we were promiscuous invaders. Such a condescending sanction, from when you used to call us brothers in arms.
That when my health declines and my sons and daughters are in despair, that I must rely on the charity of others in order to be reunited with my own ancestors. From whence in the past, I have buried you with honor and gave my blood and kin for your mission, though I knew you for only this war that I had no voice in.