There’s a moment in the hush between heartbeats, When holding on becomes heavier than hope and in that silence, you learn the art of release. You untie the knots you tied in stormy weather, loosen your grip on ghosts in the mirror, and find that your hands though empty are free. The past does not apologise, nor promise not to sting. But you, gentle and fierce, choose peace over proof, flight over fear. You are not the branch that broke, you are the wind that moved on. Not the anchor rusting below, but the tide that still sings to the moon. So let go, not in weakness but in wild, sacred strength. Let go like dusk lets go of the sun, trusting it will rise again. JH
There’s a sickness crawling through the heart of America, and no, it’s not new. It’s ancient. It’s the rusted chain rattling through centuries of history. But now it’s not even trying to hide.
Racism has stepped out of the shadows, dusted off its boots, and made itself at home. No more dog whistles. No more veiled language. It’s on the surface, slick and shameless, sitting in the front seat of power. Fueled by wealth. Driven by hate. And guarded by laws that pretend to serve justice, but really serve only the rich and pale-skinned privileged.
This isn’t paranoia. It’s policy.
People of colour, immigrants, the undocumented, the unprivileged they’re not just living under threat. They’re living under siege. At the border, in the neighbourhoods, in the courtrooms, in the schools. Detained without cause. Separated from children. Torn from homes. And the world just watches as if this were a movie, distant and fictional. But it’s not. It’s here. It’s real. It’s Alligator Alcatraz, a cold-blooded, state-sanctioned prison of fear.
The land of the free? Only if you can afford it. Only if you look the part.
Where are the morals? They’ve been auctioned off. Sold to the highest bidder with a PAC fund and a private jet. The Constitution gets quoted like scripture, but only the verses that benefit the gatekeepers. The rest is redacted black lines over brown bodies.
And so we ask: Why isn’t the world more angry?
Maybe because anger is exhausting. Maybe because some people still don’t believe it’s happening. Or worse maybe they do believe it, and they just don’t care.
But we care. And caring means we can’t stay quiet.
This Alcatraz of inhumanity, this Alligator that snaps at the heels of justice, must be shut down. Not just the physical camps or detention centres, but the mindset that built them. The machinery that feeds on fear. The silence that protects it.
Justice is not a luxury. It’s a birthright. And those who have stripped it from others must be held accountable. No immunity. No exception.
This isn’t just about America. It’s a mirror to the world. So let the world be angry. Let it rise. Let it roar.
Because silence is complicity, and we’re done whispering.
Julan62 