sunday morning

do you ever look at people and wonder how they have moved on, when what bounds you together continues to threaten to drown you?

if you go in with guns up, of course you’ll start a war.

how do i honor your experiences, when they’ve formed opinions rooted in the oppression of others?

is it a crime to want conversation to run miles deep, instead of inches?

have i started a fire, or simply thrown sticks onto one that was years long burning?

that feeling that you get, when you know your name will pass over lips even after you’re gone.

again and again and again i ask the same question: what do i owe to you?

all of this, and nothing more, belongs to sunday morning

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