In medias res

I can dance in the middle of a war
like a cattle in the slaughterhouse,
I can sing in the middle of greedy
hunger for power, like a severed
rooster; I can die in the middle of
pious talks on global peace and
harmony, I can drown myself in
guilt and shame in the middle of
theoretical cacophony;
I can be mesmerized at the autocratic
insistence on growth and development,
when millions starve under the indifferent
firmament; I can chant spiritual mantras
in the middle of inequality and caprice,
like a gang-raped teenager, seeking justice,
I can dance in between the designed gap
of word and action, and listen to volumes of
discourse on integrity, on one hand, I become
rich, and on the other, I breed poverty.