Can we just stop, and breathe?

how long have we been
running on empty?
these iron shackles, bruised ankles
of a past not our own
a burden not ours to carry
were we present when
the first bullet left its chamber?
energy wasted, innocently castrated
can we just stop, and breathe?
this futile, endless race
heeding to banal songs
of us against them
dodging a thousand spears
with every step we take
fingers pointing
hidden frames recoiled
an eye for an eye
that
leaves us all blind
can we just stop, and breathe?
for only when we stop
do we see the true color
of each other’s eyes
pass miniscule diversities
relishing at the vast oasis
of harmony
are we really so different
you, me?
suffer, we all did
now can we just stop, and breathe?
even if we allow the dead
to testify
certify these words, they would
“why don’t we all
just stop and breathe?”