Emotions run deep,

In times of crisis;

But memories,

Are a fleeting thing.

                  Author Unknown

They have captured me

In a bloody ambush.

All is lost for me now,

I am doomed.

Soon, they will come for me.

They will beat and torture me.

They will pummel me until

I can barely breathe.

Then they will blindfold me,

Lead me away,

And throw me

 Up against a wall.

They will curse me,

And my heritage,

And my god,

And everything I hold sacred.

They will even allow

Some of their own children,

To spit on me.

When their fun is finally over,

They will kill me.

Will my death come swiftly?

Or will it be slow and painful?

Will they stab me?

Will they shoot me?

Or will they save a bullet,

And, instead, hang me?

Why do they hate me so?

What have I done to them?

Why do they think that what they do

Is right and just?

Who gave them supremacy

Over others?

I will never know,

But I can guess.

Some of them do it for religion,

Some of them do it from greed,

Some of them do it from bigotry,

Some of them do it from ignorance,

And some of them do it

Simply because

Their leaders

Told them to.

But some of them

Do it,

For pure hatred

Of anyone on this planet

Who is not exactly like them.

They need no other reason.

Who am I?

I am an American truck driver,

Recently captured in Iraq.

I am a Muslim truck driver,

Recently captured in Bosnia.

I am an Afghan peasant,

Captured by Russian soldiers.

I am a South American native farmer,

Captured by Catholic Conquistadors.

I am an Aborigine fisherman,

Captured by Australian settlers.

I am an African shepherd,

Captured by European slave traders.

I am a Cambodian teenager,

Captured by the Khmer Rouge.

I am a Moor shopkeeper,

Captured by Knights on a Holy Crusade.

I am a Jewish businessman,

Captured by Nazis in Poland.

I am a newly arrived Chinese immigrant,

Captured by an 1800s mob in New York City.

I am a Native American medicine man,

Captured by WASP settlers in America’s West.

I am a black gospel singer,

Captured by a white lynch mob in the South.

I am a gay computer programmer,

Captured by homophobes in the Midwest.

I am a 5-year old child,

Eating an ice cream cone,

On my front porch stoop,

On a hot, muggy, summer’s evening,

In East Los Angeles,

Captured in the crossfire,

Between Asian and Hispanic gangs.

And the list goes on and on and on,

Throughout the history of mankind.

Nazis attacked and destroyed

Entire Jewish communities,

Slaughtering thousands of

Innocent men, women,

Children, and elders.

The Nazis called it Purification;

The Jews call it Terrorism.

United States army troops

Burned entire Native American villages,

Slaughtering thousands of

Innocent men, women,

Children, and elders.

We called it Manifest Destiny;

Native Americans call it Terrorism.

Islamic militants

Attacked the World Trade Center,

Slaughtering thousands of

Innocent men, women,

Children, and elders.

They call it A Holy War;

We call it Terrorism.

Terror by any other name,

Is still terror,

And many different groups,

Throughout the history of mankind,

Have participated in it.

Who am I?

I am every man;

Because hatred

Prejudice

Greed

And intolerance

Have ruled mankind,

Since time began.

Why are we so surprised

By recent developments

In Iraq?

Why do we act like these

Are atrocities never seen before?

Why do we think terror

Is something new to the world?

Terror is as old as the sands of time,

And has been continuously waged,

Somewhere in the world,

By some hate-filled group,

Ever since the Ancient Egyptians

First enslaved the Hebrews.

And whether terror is committed

Against one individual,

Thousands of times,

Or against thousands of individuals,

At one time,

It is still terror.

All we need do,

Is read our history books.

And all our future offspring

Will need do,

Is read theirs.

Many of our own ancestors

Committed some of these atrocities.

Many of our own progeny

Will commit some of these atrocities in the future.

Whether it is a declared or undeclared war,

Whether it is a hostile attempt to

Control land or resources,

Whether it is a belief

That one’s god,

Or one’s ideology,

Or one’s country,

Or one’s lifestyle,

Or one’s skin color,

Or one’s sexuality,

Is better than another’s,

The result is always the same.

The question really isn’t,

Who am I?

The question really is,

Who are we?

What kind of hate-riddled species

Is the animal known as man?