Oh the stories we do tell
of broadened smiles and successes wild,
of striving souls and worn out shoes.
Though fancy cars, muscles sore,
from days of toil and labors more.
And tears of joy from hollow halls,
and sorrow’s longing of memories gone
Of masked eyes that show no light,
of burning hearts and those we slight,
behind closed walls and those—
oh yes—in front of all.
Oh humanity has us told.
Through storylines of pen and type.
Of images and audio torn from site.
And lessons learned, for some—there might.
With hope, yes, we have to move
and sway, no, we must not.
Rather—we—should lead with light.
For ever more valuable than a gem,
squarely sitting in its idle case,
is making sure—justice takes flight.