shifting blame

it’s your fault, he says, as he struggles to digest

the depth of his loss, which, as rage, manifests

i don’t flinch as he shouts, for i understand why

grief is hard to stifle when somebody dies

–

it’s your fault, they say, as their son gasps for air

it’s a hard sight to watch, but it’s harder to bear

i’d offer a solution, but our options are sparse

every idea i can think of is nothing short of a farce

i can offer compassion — but that’s all i can give

i know it’s pathetic — they just want him to live

but i cannot change what the stars have ordained

so i hear their accusations, and bear witness to their pain

–

it’s your fault, she says, when the test results return

the prognosis is guarded; things took an unfavourable turn

i weather through her anger, although i feel my walls are chipping

i understand her grief, but, still, my composure’s slipping

–

it’s your fault, i say, as i look in the mirror

the source of these problems is becoming clearer

there’s one denominator common to everything i see

the one thing these situations have in common…is me

at first it’s my reflection whose sight i can’t stand

but then things progress as i start to understand

that the useless one is me, and my hatred internalises

my reflection focuses in. it’s me it criticizes.

everything that i face, i cannot blame on fate

bad things happen simply because i was too late

or too stupid or too cowardly to do what needed doing

and i spend an eternity witnessing sights that i’ll end up rueing