a color was a thought of painting
and poetry and literature
sadly
my son took a crayon
held it in the air  it was flesh
said right on the paper wrapper
and asked
dad, this says flesh
and I see all kinds  of color
in people,
why?
Why what?
I asked trying to narrow his
question down,
He said , it is  pink,
it don't look like my skin
or yours
and I wondered
if  I drew a man
do I have to use this to
color him with?
I answered , I don't know if
correctly,
no son,
use all the crayons
grab as many as you can
make a rainbow
man,
that would be better

lest love and heart and freedom die among
the city streets be known
we have the choice of peace to war upon

t'is best to be the struck then wage a battle
of moral codes with
fists and guns

For those who fight with hate and anger
are bowing down to those
with power, we must first be ourselves

pure and right and honorable, stand
up to wrong with acuity
and strength of mind

not be the same aggressors
ignorant violent and greedy
like our oppressors,

But our place in history will
look back and judge us
honorable, wise peaceful
and good men.

In the end we will win.

some believe in the deity
others in the sanctity of self
I think poetry is a religion
a soul unto itself
not a god
but close
and I seek her his its
calming words
wisdom
to get on my knees
and worship
every night
alone
here
in my sanctuary
like any
true believer