I know neither ******* nor Liberation.
I have no Holy Day in June.

I don't need to beg for status -
whether legal or human.

I don't run when the laws arrive,
and no clerk counts the items
in my hands going into the fitting rooms.

Nobody checks my receipt,
and no trooper trails waiting
for me to drift over the line.

Ain't no door been closed,
no fountain restricted,
no glass in my ceiling.

Listing these truths reveal
what's been in plain sight
all along.

But I tell you this.

If every crayon in the box
were melted down in one great ***,
the wax will be brown,
and if molded around a wick,
and lit,
the flame would reach
unto heaven,
and light a brave new land.