I’ve found I cannot even comprehend

The lengths at which some people seem to go

When threats of conflict break the fragile hold

They claim to have upon a narrative

Oh, twisting, turning, writhing to and fro

they lash at murky shadows, ghosts and those

around them, unaware of pain and hurt

the likes of which we’ve never known before

Our hope is that they know not what they do….

Because such knowledge of the consequence

means we knew nothing but the pale veneer

that barricades a ruthless vitriol

Or worse, a simple lack of care.

We watch them fortify positions, built

to guard against the monsters they perceive

in us, despite our openness to ask

about the claws where we see hands

the places where our words have burned yet,

We’re met with stony silence at the gates.

I wonder what goes on behind those walls -

Are propaganda posters everywhere?

Do all sit silently and hope that if

they wait long enough, time will pass until

the monsters leave, the castle still intact,

declare with teary eyes that they were right,

And aren’t you glad that they were here?

Or is the truth a saddening, shameful sight

Emprisoned by none other than their choice

The walls of mirrored fear, and hate, and spite

Cut them silent,

sap their strength,

and muffle their voice?