Tiny dancers trickle down
Thin, lean, muscular vaulting
Under bony arms that tremble.
Sidelines, I sit, and watch
them under glass of stained sweat.
They try to kiss,
Red for endured violence,
Orange for bystander apathy
Yellow for HIV-positives
Green for nature’s poison
Blue for tears
and Purple, for me, who stands and watches.
Tiny dancers who leap and abound
Graceful even under the duress of colors
and I can sit and do nothing
except wait for a moment to strike
out with Courage to speak up—speak out—
Did I stutter?