Sacred Reflection

For a long time, I lived in a trance I didn’t know I was in.
Not asleep… not heartless… just entangled in the narratives that were handed to me —
the ones that told me the world was mostly fair, that harm was isolated, that love alone was enough.

I was unconsciously incompetent.
Blind to the plight of the Other — the ones silenced, caged, erased, enslaved, diminished.

And now?

Now I find myself in shell shock.

Grief crashing like waves in my chest.
Rage flickering. Shame crawling.
I look around and I see it — the racism, the bigotry, name calling, disparagement, the cruelty dressed up as righteousness.

Where was I while this was happening?
Why didn’t I see?

And yet… this grief is not punishment.
It is the beginning of clarity.
The sacred ache of waking up.

What I feel now is not weakness.
It is my soul returning to my body.

I am no longer lulled by the lullaby of comfort.
I am no longer sipping from the cup of denial.
I am sitting with the pain — not just of others, but of the human condition itself.

Separation.
Projection.
Dehumanization.
The long legacy of shadow made manifest.

And the deeper I see, the more I remember —
that I am not separate.
The oppressed lives in me.
So does the oppressor.

I am not here to wallow in guilt.
I am here to transform grief into wisdom, awareness into action.

I am here to listen. To learn.
To say: “I didn’t know… but now that I do, I will not look away.”

This awakening is not an end — it is an initiation.
Into sacred responsibility.
Into conscious community.
Into soul-led justice.

Let it begin with me.
Not with perfection.
But with humility.
And the courage to keep seeing, even when it hurts.