So, hatred won this time, it seems. Fear that lurked in the shadows now a resounding voice. There are so many parts of this world That aren’t as pretty as we’d like to think; And now we’ve seen another great facade begin to crack. It’s not so easy to believe in dreams of human decency, After seeing our own ideals trampled in the dust. So, hatred won this time, it seems. But remember, hatred has won before, It’s also been defeated before. Somehow or other, history has a way of eroding things; Mistakes are made, and some sink deep, that part is unavoidable. But these bitter legacies can wear thin after years of use – Eventually we see through them and then we vanquish them. So, hatred won this time, it seems. Why? We could drown ourselves in the question, Too afraid to grab on to the rope, And pull ourselves to a place of hope, A place that dares to trust in greater things to come. So yeah, hatred won this time, it seems. But hatred cannot always win. All those fears waiting in the dark Are destined to fail when the final battle comes. Hang on. Just wait. In the end, it is hatred who will lose it all.
I close my eyes, And get lost in a dream, That dream which is not reality – But I pray it’s the future. There is a fire burning, And yet it does not consume How is it that something so powerful, Something so hot, Can yet be so gentle? I draw closer, and can feel the terror, And yet I am unafraid, For even in the midst of flames, I am alive. The fire licks at my skin, I can feel it pouring through my veins My tongue is aflame And my eyes are like mirrors There is fire reflected in their depths, Yet I can feel no pain; My hands have turned to gold, But my fingerprints are unaltered, My DNA is not reduced to ashes, The refining is so perfect, so complete It overwhelms me. I am encased in holy fire, And yet I am not destroyed I am still myself, but a better self, No. The best self.
The streets are cold, As everywhere I meet the vacant stares On sidewalks, bus stops, every intersection; I brush past strangers, catching only a glimpse, But that’s all it takes: I am quick to surmise My own impressions plastered on Like paint spilled irreverently on canvas, I project my biases onto faces Until I forget I’m looking at a mask That this shell I’ve painted isn’t a person at all, It encases the real soul – A seemingly inseparable trick of the light That makes it easy to forget That it was I, yes I who painted them so; Look down, yes look within, Do not forget dear heart, That you yourself are but a husk – Your frail outward self is a flimsy illusion, Ready to be carried away by an unexpected gust So peel back the paint and see, You are more than the lies you tell yourself, Far more than pretty eyelashes and perfect teeth; Knock on the door of your own soul, my dear Seek the temple within and learn to reach it. Only once you see that sacred refuge Can you spot this same holy touch That lives within every human on this earth.
Noise haunts every vacant hour, Be it the sound of traffic, The radio, or the never-ending talking Inside of my head This constant clamor is crushing me – When we stand in the city square, Amid the whirling lights and rushing sound, We crave a reprieve And yet uncanny stillness makes us squirm Longer than a few seconds And the absence of noise is enough to deafen us This is the thing we fear – For it strips us of the ability to look away, To numb the pain or ignore the past There is nowhere to hide, no way to drown out the truth When faced with the one thing we humans dread: Silence.
Your love is like living gold
That cannot be contained in a single mould,
It pours out and over the sides,
Spilling into every culture;
Your love is kintsugi –
Filling in the cracks and holes of society,
Making the dark spaces glitter,
Repairing the gaping holes with solid gold
And so making the planet whole again.