It’s easy to bruise a tender heart,
To speak too fast, to play our part,
To turn away when tears are near,
Convincing ourselves we’re blameless here.
We wound with words we hardly weigh,
Then walk in pride and look away,
Calling truth a twisted lie,
While чужosing silence pass us by.
Yet when the blade cuts into skin,
When pain awakens us within,
We cry for justice, beg for sight,
Demand the wrong be made right.
Only then the mirror shows
The hands that struck, the seeds we sowed,
But shame resists what truth demands
To own the hurt our actions planned.
For healing starts when hearts are brave,
When pride loosens the grip it gave,
When we acknowledge, bend, and see
The cost of lost humility amd what it creates.
MARYANN BOSAH 