(Edited throwback)

Ra, ra, ra, I was sent for love.

Let’s start a movement,
Spread love like roots
Revitalizing the yard of
our Mother’s planted intentions, weeded over by the hate and put downs
Of the downtrodden,
Trampled by colonial boots that
Forced a garden cut with bloodsoaked stones and
hemmed by abnormal picket fence,
Only petunias may have space to grow.
Faith: that the blades of love shall peek through.
Not enough as individuals to break ground,
But, in numbers, a new landscape repainting the horizon that kisses the sun.
So, love me baby, as you were fit to do,
And let’s bury these stones into the dirt,
bend and rise under pressure of the boot,
Wave like flags love’s testimony in the wind.
Maybe we can’t reach endlessly into the earth,
Those days lost to the scarring of the ground
By the laying of a forced white marbled path, so
We’ll plant our feet firmly into their backs instead
And stand that much closer to the sun.