In the shadowed world, a wound takes root,
A scar from fires we once could not dispute.
They say to suffer is to learn and rise,
But some see vengeance where compassion dies.
Once hurt, once torn, the memories stay,
In haunted nights and bitter day.
With every crack and every scar,
A thirst to right what seems too far.
They say, “We’ve been hurt, we understand,”
But with iron fingers and closed fists land
On foreign soil, with thunder’s might,
To end the pain with a darker night.
Through shattered cities and grieving cries,
They claim their innocence with hollow lies.
The victim turned avenger speaks,
Yet peace and mercy sound too weak.
For how can you heal what you will not see,
Or forgive when vengeance claims victory?
To see the pain in another’s eyes,
Is to break the chain of endless lies.
So lay down the hate and close the scars,
For peace, like dawn, is never far.
If hands once hurt can learn to heal,
Then wounds like theirs can finally feel.
A new light rises when one heart forgives,
And in that choice, true freedom lives.
JH
Julan62 