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At the End of Congealed Hatred

Hatred does not erupt in flames from the beginning.

Idle words and threats accumulate, harden, and eventually freeze.

That congealed hatred transforms into anger, takes up weapons, becomes fighting spirit, and ultimately turns into the very force that drives war.

This poem traces the process by which hatred “congeals,” and the death and rubble left in its wake, as well as the reality of living on while still carrying that hardened hatred within.

With a restrained, repetitive rhythm, it quietly questions whether the true essence of war lies not only in destruction, but in the hatred that spreads and is shared across the world.

 

At the End of Congealed Hatred

 

Idle talk became reality.

Congealed hatred was provoked.

 

Threats reached their limit.

Congealed hatred turned into anger.

 

Mockery could no longer be forgiven.

Congealed hatred took up weapons.

 

Freedom or subjugation—only two choices.

Congealed hatred became the will to fight.

 

There was no choice but total resistance.

Congealed hatred became military force.

 

The dead and the rubble remained.

Congealed hatred enforced endurance.

 

Prepared for a long war.

Hoping for the day congealed hatred would melt.

 

Deepening feelings of disappointment and contempt.

Congealed hatred blocks the path to peace.

 

War was nothing but slaughter and destruction.

Congealed hatred spreads, shared across the world.

 

The tragedy of war was yet to come.

Congealed hatred lives on, borne by both friend and foe.

 

 

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