You speak to me in my language.
I speak to you in yours.
The towers of oppression tumble between us
as we soften a little around the edges.
We have fought, you and me. For millennia.
The eternal struggle we thought would never end.
The stain we could not erase. Didn’t want to.
Someone thought otherwise.
Sometimes it’s better to forget.
You are so beautiful it pains me.
I succumb to the gaze of universal consciousness.
It waves us to a better land.
We reach out, hand in hand,
we speak the same language.
/ Dr. Tara Swart
This story appeared in
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