A place I come to know
We are a mosaic of lanuages
Skin tone ,histories and wounded
Puzzle pieces that the world keeps trying
To force into shape in which we were
Never meant to hold .
Some of us inherit silence , some inherit storms
But all of us inherit a world
That forgets how fragile a life can be .
For we grow up learning
That borders can be thicker than blood
That justice can be blind in all the wrong ways
That freedom is a word spoken
More often that it is lived
And yet despite oppression heavy hands
Despite the coldness that settles
Into the bones of societies ... humans still rise .
Rise ! Yes ... We rise with stubborn hope
Like grass cracking through forgotten asphalt
We rise in protest , in whispers ,for one another
When the world keep insisting , we pull apart .
Because even in a world bruised ,by discrimination
There are hands that hold
Voices that soften , eyes that still see the humanity
In strangers .Peace is not a finish line
It is the slow , trembling courage
To meet cruelty with compassion
To break cycles older than our grandparents grief
To look at someone different
And still call them neighbor , family or friend with saving .
The diversity of humanity
Is not the season we struggle
It is the reason we survive ,a thousand cultures
A million stories , and still one truth
We are connected by the same
Quiet need to be safe ,to be loved , to be seen as whole
Amd maybe peace begins
Not in governments or speeches
But in ,soft revolution of everyday hearts .
The one that refuse to close , refuse to forget ,that another world is possible.
In this century of noise ,maybe learn again how to listen .
In this century of shadows ,may we choose to be the light and in this century of great division may we remember, that humanity in all its color's , scars , language , and dreams has always been
One long unfinished poem
Still learning how to heal ... Line by line .
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