A Whisper Across the Abyss
by Crystal Craig

I still call them friends.

Even now—across this wide and aching divide.

They reach for me with strong words,

urgency disguised as certainty,

offering a truth I did not ask for,

as if I have lost my way.

But I have looked left.

I have looked right.

And I have looked inward.

And when I ask,

Who do I trust with the soul of this country?

I listen not just to words,

but to the weight of character behind them.

I find myself walking with those

who carry their privilege as a duty,

who refuse to bow to bullies,

who rise even when it’s uncomfortable,

who love out loud—

not for show, but for justice.

I don’t believe the answers lie in power or party.

I believe they’re etched in something older, deeper—

in the teachings whispered by those who came before us.

Love one another.

Do unto others.

What you do to the least of these, you do to me.

These were not political slogans.

They were soul instructions.

Love is love.

Not limited by skin or gender or who we choose to hold in the dark.

If we cannot see each other’s humanity,

we have already lost something sacred.

Let us remember:

compassion was never meant to be selective.

Justice was never meant to be optional.

It hurts to feel the chasm.

It scares me to think we may never bridge it.

But I will not give up hope.

We are not perfect.

But we are rooted in care.

And if I am walking toward a cliff,

at least I will fall

in the company of those

who would never trample the least of us to rise.

May we find the courage

to reach across this rift

before all we love is gone.

And if my words feel too heavy,

if they challenge more than you’re ready to hold—

it’s okay to unfollow me.

It’s okay to block me.

I understand.

We are all tending to our own boundaries right now.

We all need spaces that feel safe.

Go where your peace lives.

I’ll still be here,

loving this world in the best way I know how.