poem: Find A Way Forward
Mar. 2nd, 2026 12:30 amWritten by
ysabetwordsmith
Marching does not feel
natural, just necessary.
Our feet were made for
forest trails, not for streets.
Our hands want to hold beads
instead of holding protest signs.
We want to sing in our language
and not shout chants in theirs.
The tension between past
and present is palpable.
Somehow, we must
find a way forward.