Once, the skin of all was black
Now, for so many, it has faded
as has their humanity
Crystal clear tears of the still, human
flow in rivers on
the streets of “freedom”
while their blood spills
red, then dries to black
But the flesh of the fake
contemptible, vile
is pale and bloodless
ζ
ζ
ζ
ζ
ζ
Colors lying all across the ground
yellow, orange, red, and brown
but I thought only of red
seeing this, after the trees had shed
because it’s the only human one
flowing through us until we’re done
It’s not what shows up on our skin
unless another, unkindly, breaks in
tearing us apart; instead of twirling
together, dancing and swirling
like the sweet, falling leaves
on the morning’s autumn breeze
Heartspell 