Yes, as we speak horrid things are happening
Right under our very gaze
Yes, as we speak brutality is sport
And the children suffer as they have before
Is the noise of violence that which defines us?
Or is it the silence that lets the noise grow?
Is there really a tale of Love in this mess?
Or is the heart an organ of only sorrow?
Optimism has no place here, none
Because thoughts are not lock-breakers
Sadness has no place here, none
Because tears don’t bend steel
Yes, as we speak our own kids’ reflections
Are permanently frozen down South
Yes, as we speak a mother’s soul
Is crushed by a petulant silence
Romi Mahajan in an Author, Marketer, Investor, and Activist