At the gates

We are seeing the mad Roman emperors
—the last of a line that got more rotten with each generation—
who assigned their dog to be consul,
and an ass to be high priest,
laughing at us crowds that cheer for them still
even while our homes are on fire.

And, somehow, we are also the barbarians at the gates.
At every gate around the world,
pushing the god of greed onto every tribe at the end of a weapon.
At the gates of our neighbors,
at best a silent mob, if not carrying the torches ourselves.
At the gates of hospitals,
as the sick are questioned if they are legal.
At the gates of our own minds,
which begin to retreat in complicity already
under the weight of the dignity we deny to others
just to buy a moment’s delay for our own.

Would Rome have fallen if kind people stood upright
instead of accepting every new rot as inevitable?
What if life without courage was not worth prolonging.
What if we stood on the other side of the gate for once
to begin again with nothing more
and nothing less
than being human together.

Melih Sener