Stigma

“We must guarantee that genetic information must never be used to stigmatise anyone. All of us are created equal and entitled to equal treatment." Bill Clinton, US President

The genetic mark

The genetic mark - print that says everything;

under skin, beneath bone to unlying molecule.

Brought into light, judged, sorted - complexity

oversimplified; what might be used for healing,

perverted into instrument of discrimination -

chemical chain binding genetic underclasses.

What genius might genetic weedkiller expunge

Dynamite in the brain, gelignite laid in innocent cells -

maybe exploding in the world; perhaps art or madness,

both - the genetic seed and flower of creativity spread,

artistic advantage in relations of the certifiably insane.

What genius might genetic weedkiller expunge, delete,

the population slowly becoming duller, less perceptive,

imaginative; leaping less among the stars, bright mechanics

of the Universe, Earth materials - among thoughts of angels.

What poverty might we bring to that wide entity - humanity,

whose glories and disasters were built through four billennia,

by one synthetic gene, one message sent into the sequenced dark,

code cracked; some action called improvement in the current age.

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This human soup can never be made by men.

What Nature has cooked up for four billennia,

simmering, seasoning, changing, adapting, developing,

still produces occasional faults, flaws - inconsistencies.

Imagine the changes tinkering might produce; fabulous,

life-enhancing - or devastating consequences, unforseen.

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The mark on the forehead, written at birth.

Instead of the water of baptism, welcome -

a burning brand of letters, dark promise;

burden built before the unfolding of life.

What hope of peace or happiness for them,

categorised, shunted out to being unclean -

read, deciphered as genetically inoperable;