The words – trajectory and fate.
They seem quite relevant of late.
Despite resistance and distress.
Our end’s the same, nonetheless.
I’ve been saddened and enraged.
But stayed quiet, disengaged.
I am a stranger in my home,
Most at home when my mind roams.
I understand, and I can see.
From what I see I’m never free.
I am entwined in a system.
Urged to play the part of victim.
A role I choose not to play.
So, I stay here out of the fray.
Perhaps I have seen far too much,
About the truth, the lies and such.
My beliefs shook to the core.
And I feel there will be more.
More tumult and more revealing,
Before there can be any healing.
It’s a turning, a revolution.
We passed by easy solutions.
And this is how it was, to be.
With little hope or guarantee,
That the joy follows the pain.
That the sun will rise again,
For this idea, for this land.
This is history’s demand.
Being written as we speak,
Within the hearts of the meek.
Where the battle rages on.
Where the noise becomes a song.
Where we remember what we are.
Where what is next is never far.
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