Poemchallenge by @margaretwise poem Standing

I know of sadness
Be closed doors
Be of the back exposed to the whip and to the ear
Be old deceased covered
Ash lonely rattles
Abandoned in cribs without anyone
I know of uncertainties and awe
Accelerated as the misfortune
They left in my pockets
Only this one
Haggard portrait
And in my chest bitter powder
Of the lack of love
I know of sadness On my neck
Centuries of gunpowder And dogma
They made the bloody moments
Of contempt and humiliation
For feeling human
Let extirpate in me the customs
Of my hobbies
And the trampled milk of his wounds
This is how my western learning began