Ink Blot

Unpacking inner landscapes gracious with colour
Skin, for Jesus-sake has become a pillar
One black, one white, the culture of two bones
Then skulling our mix, as the hound hones

Bring my note to the offices high in the land
And pockets so low you’d trip on your waistband
To hear what I heard in the canyon of divide
“I dived from the cliff I was born on” I replied

“This time for Africa!” I heard off in the distance
One broken leg, you’d understand my resistance
To reach the voice I pulled my whole body
What I saw there was a sight that shocked me

A man on a carpet keeping the peace
Plus a God in the sky for all to believe
I absorb with my eyes as the sounds heal me
I share in their food, their heart, and become a devotee

Strength lies in numbers, but dollars or heads?
If one voice speaks, is that what they said?
In the canyon I meet my own, but listen to be wise
If I say we are disrespecting the other culture, my group, is this lies?