We are more than a hashtag,
more than a post lost in a flood of scrolling,
more than a moment made easy
by clever captions and polished outrage.
Our struggle is not disposable.
Our hope is not trending.
Our history does not fit
into a headline,
or a post,
or a restack.
No, we were marching
before timelines existed,
praying with blistered feet
before platforms went viral,
building movements
with blood, sweat, hymns, and hope
long before the world learned
to double-tap solidarity.
We are not here
for applause measured in likes.
We are here
to live the love
we dare to post about.
To turn posts into protests,
shares into service,
and hashtags into heartbeats
that beat steady
long after the cameras move on.
The children watching us
won’t remember what we posted—
they’ll remember
what we planted.
They’ll remember
if we showed up
when the streets grew cold,
if we built bridges
when the world offered walls,
if we gave more
than words.
This work—
this unity—
is more than a slogan
or a moment made fashionable.
It is the long walk home
for the exile.
It is the outstretched hand
for the forgotten.
It is community stitched together
in love fierce enough
to stay.
More than a hashtag,
we are a movement,
a murmuring river that won't be dammed,
a fire passed from heart to hand,
burning bright through generations.
So here is the call:
Show up.
When it’s easy and when it’s exhausting.
When no one is posting about it.
When no one is looking.
Speak up.
Not just for the cameras,
but in boardrooms, classrooms, living rooms.
When the risk is real.
When the silence is heavy.
Love hard.
Like it costs something—
because it does.
Like it demands something—
because it must.
We are more than a hashtag.
We are the living testimony
that faith without works is dead,
and hope without action
is just another empty slogan.
Let them restack posts—
we will restack justice,
layering mercy on mercy,
truth on truth,
building something
they cannot scroll past,
something that will not disappear
when the trend fades.
Because we are not a trend.
We are a testimony.
We are not the moment.
We are the movement.
And we are just getting started.
Beautiful poem! Thank you for sharing it. I feel like I’ll need to read it again and again.
Best poem I’ve read on Substack ⚔️