Unless legions of people
Unequaled
In stature
Go marching
Like ants
In the colony
Fractured
The psyche
Then voices won’t matter
Who hurt you
Like Nike
Incisively
Signals its virtue
Upon the first trend
The Black Fridays we spend
As consumers
United
In rights to defend
Our most sheepish impulses
And wolf appetites
To the death
Of our liberties
In the black sites  
Where the word
Of slain leaders
Still herds its immunity
Deep in the cells
Of what sells
Black community

…at four in the morning,
the room was sharp and silent
through the stillness of the dark
and yet, I sang those old songs
swaying in the cold wind
with bottle upon my breath
as I dreamt of green birds
and the lonely white lotus
that kept fluttering
into my scratched head
while coming apart at the seams
with tears of sadness
I sat and pondered
where they all went:
those little caramel ladies of brown doom
with novocaine souls and enamel bodies;
you gave me the liveliest moments
even when you brought me
to the brink of death,
you have liberated me during
my most shackled state of mind,
you spilled the truth when you
told me, “I could never be reached.”
and therefore I must come to terms
with the absence of your warmth
as the green birds have flown
into concrete skies
and the white lotus has shriveled
into a curling black mass
I sway with the wind,
rising the bottle
and belting out
those old songs
in a room so
sharp and silent
at four in the morning.

every morning,
despite the unseen battle
i dare to open my windows,
to witness the entrance
of the cold breeze
and orange, striking rays
tracing the interiors
of my little room,
hoping for a day
brimming with delight.

every morning,
despite the unseen battle
i dare to open my windows,
to whisper a wish—
the heart’s prayer
to the meandering winds,
to the golden sunbursts,
the future, the uncertain days
will be filled with hope,
with tender kindness.