On my way to the polling place
keeping my ballot tight, save,
remembering the words of my friend Gisbert.
“Smothered willpower, you have,
your dignity smashed.
Your freedom? Nowhere to be found.
Are we really free
in this non-democracy?
Are you not sick of politicians
who infantilize you?
Condescending words,
be looked down on you.
Your belated reaction
makes us all slaves
of invisible chains
put by those who true democracy
once betrayed.
Other countries have it too:
elected representatives,
separation of powers,
unsubsidized parties,
limited capacities,
no gerrymander.
Christian, Jew,
Muslim or Buddhist.
Christmas dinner, Passover Seder,
Vesak or Ramadan.
No individual will flourish
under the rule of ballot traders.
Under the power of parties,
organisms of the state,
democracy, equivocal concept,
is a socialized delusion,
not collective, a fantasy
merely circumscribed
to personal freedoms
granted by the same hands
that can revoke them
at will.
Every four years, the same old song:
auspicious future, vague promises,
lies, poisonous tongues.
The most essential: vote.
Legitimate us, don’t sink the boat,
stay in the cave,
here, your invisible chains. “
At the polling place, my ballot
out of the pocket.
Alone, I tear the paper.
Together, our chains are broken.