How Can I Not Know?

how many of my actions
...are shallow graves,
for the children, unnamed,

and unborn....

how many of my thoughts
...are their tombstones,
standing, testifying

in the sun....

how many of my words
...are their epitaphs,
written with the greed

that feeds the self?

how many of my days
....at the expense of theirs,
and how can i not know,

or care?

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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