People, Who Are "We"?

We the people a promise spoken,
Carved in ink that challenged time.
Yet every generation pauses to ask,
If those words still truly shine.
Who were the people first imagined?
Whose voices echoed in that call?
Did every heart stand in the circle,
Or were some left beyond the wall?
How many years, how many footsteps,
How many tears were paid in full,
Before the dream of equal standing,
Began to outweigh ancient rule.
What was the struggle truly seeking,
A flag, a nation, liberty's flame?
Or the right for every human soul,
To live with dignity and name?
Can freedom belong to only a few,
While others wait outside the gate?
Can justice wear a single face,
And still be worthy of its weight?
If frights are gifts, then whose are they?
Can truth be divided by blood or birth?
Does the breath that fills one life,
Not fill every child upon this earth? 
No hand that shaped the stars above,
Would measure worth by race or land.
The light that rises with each dawn,
Falls gently on every outstretched hand.
Until no life is counted lesser,
Until no voice is cast aside,
The question lives in every age,
Who stands within, and who outside?
Perhaps the answer is not written,
In parchment, power, or decree.
It lives each time we choose another,
As worthy of humanity.
Only then will "We the People"
Become more than history's refrain,
A living vow that every person,
May walk in freedom, free from chains.
 

The Distance I Chose

Stepping back to protect my peace while maintaining a principle of love, especially after being deeply hurt, requires significant resilience. Working within a close circle of friends and their families demands immense patience and caution. My former principal at Assumption strictly avoided hiring overlapping relatives to prevent a clique mentality and workplace awkwardness. Looking back, her perspective was entirely correct. 

Standing far apart from colleague’s crowded space.

I wear my silence as my shield.

Not because I fear their voices, their presence,

But knowing their whispers yield to destroy and gang up.

They once betrayed my trust,

They turn simple moment, a tale, untrue.

Inventing words I never spoke

Painted lies, unjust, covering my body in shame.

 They cast me as the villain of the story they created.

I became their content to fill their empty spaces.

I became their joy because my isolation is their happiness.

My presence is their grief.

I chose to isolate, my decision, my life... because I love them, though.