As we stood within
The crowd
Of the eerie midnight sphere
2 figures,
Sketchy at first glance
We pause

2 figure males
One nine feet high
Clothed in sleekly darkness
Noir glasses

Causally he approaches
With scars of time
Plastered in his face

We know him
To know the hate
We have
Hate indeed

Beside him
A mini him?
With noir glasses?
And sunny hair?
A shirt-shaded gray
Armed with weapon of
Same shade

Its hard swallow
Intuition screams
Embossed stretch
Of time,

Life’s basic principals
Even for him
A Hyena, … who
We prefer dead
We believed dead

We hear he lives and
We hated it
What he did

He’d laughed at dreams

But now we see him

He looks at us behind
The noir screens
We held his gaze
Stillness in the midnight hour
Frost breath

Mini him enters
Observation
Guilt’ lullaby crawls
Beneath our xylophones.
The midnight sphere
Pushes down our gaze

He smiles,
Apology accepted

Without gold & silver
Of arrogance, he studied us
Behind the noir shades

He laughs
His breath of waxy calmness
And wisdom?

Unexpected…
Hyena utters something
Surprising
“Everyone’s the same,
Trails affect
Behavior

Though
Meant to bring identity”

He keeps going
Staring ahead
With him Jr.
Looking back

One last word
“Sankofa”