I can barely breathe—
the weight of this world is suffocating,
pressing against my soul,
choking the hope out of me.

I hear my ancestors weeping,
their cries carried in the wind,
echoing through time,
through the blood-soaked soil they once stood upon.
They fought, they bled,
so we could rise, so we could be free,
so we could have a chance at a life they only dreamed of.
But look at us now—
divided, shattered, drowning in hate.

I want to scream,
I want to cry until the heavens shake,
until the earth opens and swallows this pain whole.
So much beauty in this world,
yet it is poisoned with rage,
tainted with the hands of those who refuse to see
that we are all flesh, all breath, all bone.

This cannot be what the Creator intended—
for us to build walls instead of bridges,
to raise our fists instead of our hearts,
to bury love beneath the weight of our differences.

Why can’t we love?
Why can’t we see that none of us are staying?
That no skin color, no wealth, no power
will save us from the grave?
In the end, we all return to the dust.
So why do we waste this gift of life on hatred?

I close my eyes,
and I pray that one day,
we will wake up and see each other
not as enemies, not as strangers,
but as souls—
woven from the same light,
created to love,
not to destroy.