A morning stroll--

Main Rd,

Charleston,

South Carolina.

 

Each step

bears the weight

of my shadow,

encompassing hundreds

of souls,

hindered and hurt,

their mass

heavying my stride,

exhausting my exuberance.

 

Nine shots afire in a house of holiness--

a bloodied barter,

exchanges of black blood

for vile vengeance.

 

Prejudice pools--

sinking into black skin

as ink on paper,

stains of permanence.

 

Oh Father why,

is this war of wrangled racism

webbed through generations,

as the silk of spiders

is threaded between branches of family trees.

 

Festered fear,

searching for sanctification

in a place of safety,

marred

by selfish

sin.

 

A vial of injustice

swallowed by a culture,

viscous and virulent,

an epidemic of

inequality.

 

In the eyes of the bigoted,

a curse of color,

blossoming through pores,

why must my skin paint me criminal?

 

Fire

dances in the eye

of anger,

an iris

bloodied

with dyes of disdain,

lashes mangled--

singed

black

with flames

of judgement,

risen from

a pupil of coal,

dense centers of animosity

and bias.