how I lost respect for someone

I know
your blood boils,
your people suffer,
your beaches stain black,
your cities break bare,
your children cry,
your soil salts phosphorous,
your elders lose shelter,
your bellies shrink hungry,
your smoke
still fumes.

But your finger
points to me
points to Europe
points to Poland
points to those ghosts of me
left to wander in short memory,
left to wallow in forgotten sympathy,
and your finger
points back
and you tell yourself
that you
are in Europe
are in Poland
are like those ghosts of me
and now you
need their sympathy
now that we're done with it.

You know
nothing.