The Bridge We Must Become

Begin not with the battle cry, But with a question—soft, not sly: “What pain do you still carry near?” Then wait in grace, then choose to hear. The soil still holds our common thread, Though fields lie fallow, dreams lie dead. Yet seeds of peace may grow again, If tilled by hearts, not swords of men. No wall can keep the storm at bay, No pride can wash our guilt away. We build not strength by being right, But by the courage to unite. Forgiveness is no weak man’s shield— It breaks the blade, it clears the field. And justice walks not swift nor grand, But slowly, with an outstretched hand. Let elders speak, let children dream, Let silence flow where rage would scream. In stillness we may hear the call— The quiet work that mends us all. It will not come from throne or tower, But humble hearts in daily hour. The ones who choose to serve, to stay— To hold the line, to clear the way. So let us not await a sign, For we are clay and we’re design. Each life a stone, each soul a thread, In tapestry not yet fully spread. We are the bridge we must become, Each step a vow, each voice a drum. And when we walk through fire and night— We’ll find again the morning light. Author: Floyd Neal Date: May 2, 2025 Inspiration: Commonalities of Humans