Scratches on broken glass,
echoes drifting apart.
Neither distance nor time
can erase them.
What came before me
still touches me so deeply.
Memory, language, and land
flow through my veins.
The blissful days were fractured
by wounds never healed.
Stories whispered,
never reaching the community.
The victors write
the official version,
but minds and hearts hold their truths.
Mar 17, 2025
Mar 17, 2025 at 8:00 PM UTC
Scratches on broken glass,
echoes drifting apart.
Neither distance nor time
can erase them.
What came before me
still touches me so deeply.
Memory, language, and land
flow through my veins.
The blissful days were fractured
by wounds never healed.
Stories whispered,
never reaching the community.
The victors write
the official version,
but minds and hearts hold their truths.
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