In this cyberspace, a void so vast
Vast gaping depths echoes the voices of many
Many in an endless space to shout into, to cast
Cast every opinion, thought, feeling worth a penny
A pennyworth so long you are with the many, then you are entitled to this space
Space that only echoes back the same; opinions differed unwelcomed in any case.
History has its eyes on us.¹
You may think yourself to be lost in this abyss
An abyss that stares back but rest assured you are never forgotten by the mob of users
Users take what I said years ago, words I have taken back, words that now bite at me, and hiss
Hissing that this right of mine to speak is not a part of our Bill, taken away by these new "doers"
"doers" who are unkind, unmerciful, unforgiving of past mistakes; censor, scare me into silence
Silence is not always peace, but now a refuge from the virtual bashing and stoning
Stoning of hate comments, dislikes that make the boulder of job rejection, firing more painful
Painful to even exist as you are, hated for a past version of yourself that did not know better.
History has its eyes on us.¹
Do not be mistaken that I find comfort in this silence for it is limited
Limited like the mindset of a mob whose only one way to see is to invalidate
Invalidate past versions of ourselves that did not know better or know now
Now until the swarm can be kind, be respectful of differences
Differences shall continue to divide, prevent us from learning any better from history
History is not made with silence, but with the opinions and actions of all that differ.
History has its eyes on us.
1 Amanda Gorman, The Hill We Climb
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As life goes, so do I
PoetryRead to feel. These poems are written in the hopes that it stirs the emotions. Just maybe someone out there will come across this and find a poem in here that expresses exactly what they are feeling. And for me, I hope that brings comfort to some. T...
