Blame fractures what it touches,

and each finger pointed cracks

the perfect circle of glass we might have 

formed with hands open to hold the weight 

of all the wrong that cannot be undone.

 

Let the wound speak without a courtroom,

without a scaffold erected for brutality,

and let grief pour clean and pure

as a stream unmuddied by the hunt

for someone to carry what is unbearable.

 

In this raw place of sorrow where hurt lives

closest to the skin, we find not comfort in

seeking the villain for the noose

but in envisioning a better architecture:

making a lasting bridge built stone by stone,

each of us laying down our need to be right,

and instead taking our hands of mercy

to lift each heavy and precious stone.

 

22/12/2025