I ACCUSE YOU

Diary of Exile – March 18, 2025

This poem was born on one of the darkest days of my exile. Not to hurt, but not to forget. It is a necessary act: written not to persuade, but to keep myself from disappearing. It doesn’t matter if anyone will read it. What matters is that it has been written.

I accuse you.
You who looked away.
You who heard the screams but chose silence.
You, pious souls ready to pray but never to extend a hand.
I accuse you of letting a man fall,
and of saying, with indifference:
“Just another unfortunate one crushed by the system.”

I accuse you of having lost compassion,
of letting sensitivity die,
of extinguishing your conscience.

I accuse you of never trying to understand
what it means to be humiliated,
stripped of your rights,
with dreams trampled like dust.

I accuse you of thinking it co..uld never happen to you.
Of saying, “That won’t happen to me.”
Of repeating, “I have my own problems.”

I accuse you of erasing the last part of your humanity,
just to avoid seeing someone else’s suffering.
And I accuse you most of all
of justifying your indifference
with hypocritical and cowardly words:
“It must be an isolated case. A madman.”
“If it were true, the media would talk about it.”
“Let him drown in his madness.”

I accuse you.
And even if no one will read these words,
I write them for myself, for my own conscience.
Because one day, I will forgive myself.