Levar Conway

Levar ConwayThe old don’t speak to
the young. They blame the young
for being different,
strange, frightening. Or they
speak at the young, with
regard for listening
only to their own
words, mistaking their worn
proverbs for wisdom.
But I spoke to them. And
I listened to them.
Their fears, Their hopes. Their schemes
and cosmologies.
And I told them that their
elders were just as
lost, just as confused as
they were. And to trust
themselves. I told them the
things I wished had been
told to the young me, what I
learned through all my long
revolutions. They might
not have listened to
me. They may not have heard.
But some of them did.
Even if only one.

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