Spores of Hatred

Night wind shakes the orchard’s skin,

Dust of bitterness drifts in.

Pollen of spite on tongue and lung,

Seeds of anger, sharp and young.

Whispers travel root to root,

Souring marrow, blackening fruit.

We taste the storm in every breath—

Small and light, but born for death.

Name the poison, mark the air,

Draw a circle, take the care.

Spores of hatred—carried by the night,

Float like ash and choke the light.

Build a firebreak, ring the trees,

Burn the sickness from the leaves.

Spores of hatred—do not let them bloom;

Turn their hunger into room.

Breathe it out, refuse the stain—

Break the cycle, break the chain.

Old resentments, heirloom knives,

Passed like fruit through quiet lives.

Stories sharpened, verses mean,

Hung to dry where none can see.

Hyphae thread the family bone,

Making strangers feel like home—

Till we cut the lattice through,

Let the living choose the true.

Name the poison, mark the air,

Draw a circle, take the care.

Spores of hatred—carried by the night,

Float like ash and choke the light.

Build a firebreak, ring the trees,

Burn the sickness from the leaves.

Spores of hatred—do not let them bloom;

Turn their hunger into room.

Breathe it out, refuse the stain—

Break the cycle, break the chain.

We salt the path where rumors crawl,

We prune the boughs that shade us all.

We sing a counter-hymn of grace,

And wash the grief from bark and face.

Let love be vinegar to lies,

Let truth be wind that sterilizes.

Stop the spread—cut the rot.

Light the ring—heat the plot.

Hold the line—hold the breath.

Bleed the dark—starve the death.

Spores of hatred—fall like rain,

But not a root will drink that pain.

Firebreak bright, a living wall,

We guard the orchard, one and all.

Spores of hatred—fade, release;

Turn to soil that grows a peace.

We choose the harvest, not the hate—

Break the cycle, change the fate.

Dawn moves slow through cleared-out air;

Green returns where we repair.