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  • Writer's pictureAmanda Jayne

The end of the endless cycle?

The endless cycle

loops, wire rope fashioned by hate

cold and hard as steel

it binds us

condemned to repeat

the sins of our ancestors

the vicious pattern plays out

a million ways

Struggle to prove

innocence tightens the strands

that bind, digging trenches

deepening wounds,

wounds we cannot

see that spout blood thick

with shame and disgrace

we cannot feel

Righteousness leaden

with unacknowledged guilt

oozes insidiously from

empty pores

while cries of

“It wasn’t me,” “I would never..”

fall uselessly, silk sheets sent to cloak

the forgotten dead

Only when we

are willing to turn our heads

and look at that which

we cannot bear

when we have fallen

to our knees in abject horror

howling in the midst of bloody deeds

echoed through time

Only then can

we begin to stand in the

vast responsibility our birth

bequeathed us

and look into

your eyes as equals, with sorrow

and humility deep-rooted enough to sow

the seeds of connection

This is the gate

that leads to the field

beyond systems bound by hate

where webs spun

by our forefathers

unravel granting us freedom to carve

new pathways together. Here harmony


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