What does it mean to be human?

I can’t lower my head
to salute beings who look up to me–
nor stretch my neck
to get in the view of those who deem themselves higher than me;
I can’t do that.

the spine that holds my back
doesn’t have elasticity as one of its traits;
it stands straight,
encumbering each movement of mine:
hands, neck, feet, the movement of my eyes
and the way how I touch.

everything that is– is equal in front of these eyes.
none’s higher, none’s lower.
people can rank themselves however they please;
it’s their right!
my spine refuses concepts such as these.

it stands straight,
using me as a tool
to carry concepts which seem relic in this time and age:
old fashioned, human,
in times where inhumanity is the cross everyone
chose to bear for themselves.

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