Door of Perception
I write this poem as the protests continue. Yet another black American has lost their life because of the color of their skin. This in a land ostensibly dedicated to the principles of liberty and justice for all. The struggle is as old as the nation itself and still we have yet to come to terms with America’s original sin. Perceptions must change if we are to survive as one nation. Let the protests continue until we have lived up to our ideals!
I bathe in the bright light of her Faustian glance.
But a tragic wind blows beyond the lamp.
Along the corridors of shame I make my stand.
Living! Loving! Lying!
The yellow lemon leans in upon my dreams,
Low hanging fruit for the looters to grab.
To dance along the market square,
In a world that does not judge color.
An angry crowd glides through the streets,
Yearning to breathe free and watch the birds.
The flag billows from an invisible hand.
Growing flames flicker in the evening glow.
She carried a sign that said: No justice, No peace!
Talking loud above the din,
The lies he spins, with absent grace.
A baby cries from across the water.
Another black life stolen,
One more thread undone.
A peoples’ dreams are silenced.
We feel diminished!
One less stripe,
One less star,
One door closed,
Another door must open!