Circles of Doubt
By Amany El-Sawy
A rumor is not a word that passes by,
It is a stone hurled into still water,
Shattering trust into widening rings
That never quite return to calm.
It begins as a whisper, barely a breath,
Then learns the language of shouting,
While truth—wounded and weary—
Stands aside, uninvited, unheard.
How easily we trade eyes of mercy
For lenses ground from doubt,
How swiftly we suspect before we ask,
Condemn before we know.
A rumor needs no proof,
Only ears hungry for fire,
Minds that prefer the spark of scandal
To the slow flame of understanding.
It feeds on fear, grows in silence,
Blooms where conscience sleeps,
Leaving behind broken names,
And friendships reduced to ash.
How many innocents were tried
In the court of passing tongues,
Sentenced by sentences with no judge,
Executed by belief alone?
The cruelest theft of rumor
Is not truth, but us—
Our faith in one another,
Our courage to trust, to listen, to be fair.
When trust dies, we do not become enemies,
Only strangers standing close,
Afraid of each other’s shadows,
Afraid of our own.
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