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
awaits