House of Justice

[zeeth_kyrah]

We stand at the door to justice;
The bailiff ushers us in, one by one.
"You, and you," he says,
"You see the judge."
Others are pushed back to make room.
I look over my shoulder to see them,
Witness their faces and their causes.
The bailiff points to me.
"You're next," he says, and I wonder
If there is malice in his tone,
Or if it is reserved only for those denied.
When I pull back, the rest surge forward.
The bailiff pulls me in and closes the door.
When I take my seat, he opens it again.

Who am I to judge them?
My skin is not theirs, or is it?
My heart is not theirs, or is it?
I have lived in their place sometimes.
I have seen these stories, fought these fights.

"All rise," comes the call.
We stand together for the judge.

We sit together, facing each other.
There is no accused, only truth.

This is the house of Justice.