It’s getting rough out there; the waters fill with cold crashing swells of despair.
Here we go again; another hate filled comment savagely placed like daggers into hearts unknown. The world has gone mad; tires screech on emblematic streets as patrons scream from their political high horse.
“I am right!”
“No, I am right.”
The battle storms mid adults, as each of us, fight to shoulder the sovereignty of our tongues.
“It’s our right to speak our minds!”
Discoursing sharp, passionate opinions, without apprehending the ripples of oppression and deconstruct being placed upon our children’s ears.
Fighting the good fight, announcing with pride, it is for our kids; we are bettering their lives.
Although, there is confusion, emblazoned in soft, innocent pupils. Our children have lapped up each angry remark, and contempt for the man. Soaking up the energy of our dilapidated approaches, and taking them to school, to the park, moreover, into adulthood.
They hear us, feel our disdain, and query our resolve.
“Don’t call your sister names.”
We say, teaching our children the value of compassion, yet so quickly we shift to respond to a hateful comment on a stranger’s wall. Placing offensive words in retort.
“Be kind to your friends at school.”
Wanting nothing more than our children to be fair, and good to one another. Forgetting they are listening while we yell at the t.v., calling a presidential nominee, a moron.
It isn’t that we shouldn’t speak, it’s we need to be weary of the words we use, and the bitterness seething and bubbling off our lips. We are no better than the hate permeating throughout this election process if we don’t use compassion ourselves.
Speak your mind passionately, with compassion. Be educated in your response, or take the high road.
Our children are listening, our actions and words are teaching them.