Divisions run like rivulets Downcutting into our collective heart Ruts become canyons Scarred deep The warm light of empathy Has been swallowed by shadows Long, dark and cold We cling to canyon walls Afraid of the bottomless void below And the glorious light above We don't hear the screams As they endlessly echo We gingerly pick our way One foot in front of the other Eyes down Looking only three steps ahead
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Wow. This is very profound and so very true. We literally can't hear each other over the echo of our own screams. Much to think about here...