To end the week, a poem entitled "Dear Millennium, Inadequate Witness":
Say we no longer bear witness to a body-politic of trauma
after revolution
by anesthesia or erasure. Say we cover our eyes
to crossed olive-wood beams on a hill. Modes of witness
expose our inadequacy, the human. Forgetting
is a sign—yes, a thing once existed. Say we are unworthy
of witness, internal or external—
our damaged wisdom, for instance,
our diminished capacity for empathy
and heightened apathy to torture
mingled with doves
of unfettered desire
or an eclipsed divine.
-- Karen An-hwei Lee
