The social debt incurred by our world
Had reached critical mass ages ago.
We waited too long and the interest compounded
Now we can’t even afford to pay the first installment
The bill keeps showing up at the house
The balance growing larger
If we paid with our souls, like the fathers did
it’d barely cover the interest
And tomorrow we’d owe the same.
If we took it to the courts
Then the courts would side with sin
If we set it on fire
Maybe the ash could nourish new plains
Otherwise, the cycle resets
After reaping, the land will starve
Though we’d set it on fire
The bill would still come due
We imagine that the debt collector won’t be seen
As long as we never leave our houses
But the door is made of porcelain
And the rest of it, too
From the Author
Couldn’t bring myself to post the regular poem today. I really wanted to skip it. But like many of you I’m sure, I’m tired of being here again seeing the same things again and feeling lost as to what to do.
I really don’t know what to do.
This is a poem about ignoring immense debts.