flames

Struck as if from pure air
a fire of the spirit catches and invents itself-
a formless filament nurtured by the essence of grief and loss-
fanned by  powerful winds of change
Breathing as if living for the lost
it rises upon unseen waves,
fills the already full hearts
that wonder after justice

Heaven is a place within the soul
that accepts peace of the righteous
it is to the outward eye
a fury... a burning rage

Yet to those who hunger so deeply
it is the rest of the unending urgency
to bring life from wrongs, to raise an altar
for the sacrifices that have been made.



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Thousands of people march and protest the wrongful killings of Black men and boys in America; it is a movement begun from the hearts of those who value life...hdm

a ruined cocoon

Justice rides a slow, slow train

On a winding track, uphill

Into headwinds, broken rails and promises

They waited in Ferguson

Where heartbreak fell, ripped

Bolt by bolt from the peace of the world

They felt they could do what ever they pleased

And they were right…

Walking the streets like they belong

Is a cause for a strike, blonde-washed brains

See so much more than others, they see

A future of respectability could emerge

Like a butterfly even from a ruined cocoon

And so douse and burn, and entertain

The passion of the flames…walking down the street

Like they belonged

A flash, a mad dash, and head bumps anger

Flash and flash…flash flash flash flash

Fall like the clouds have gone to stone

Fall like fires of heavens into the sea

Fall in the tears of disbelief, and deep is the grief

That follows, can you feel the hot flame and cold

Steel of eyes that find a reason to make this the season

For taking the sun-kissed child…for

Walking down the street, like they belonged.