Crossfire

Wishing eyes could forget a pain so apparent.
Splitting the soul and the city apart.
Stumbling along a lonely corridor, with the lights turned off by god.
Do not be afraid to come together.
Our cells and blood mix to forge a unity of peace.
Underneath a heart that beats a rhythm of understanding.
A closed door and bolted window will not keep the house from burning.
Give me you hand in silence, or in a roar of prejudice.
Beat out, not the sinful or misunderstood from the skin.
Let a serum of forgiveness seep within.
Into your eyes that have cried bloody tears.
And veins pumped full of hate and fear.
To take a hand and love the scars.
Ones that have touched the essence of any god, is still divine.
And pray the world feels the same.
And within the ground ignite the spark.
That banishes pain and all the dark.

Freedom is a privilege

Did you remember, or were you hoping to forget?
Underneath this skin, brown and course like the worked route.
That strange fruit.
Was red and wet.
What were you hoping for, a different kind of history?
One without me. Without such pity.
Look back in disgust if you must.
But these strong roots have grown from that toil.
Of being in place that we should never have been.
Never being seen.
If we spin the past and tip it over.
Reverse the world and replace colour with white.
How would you have felt with the blood on your shoulders?
And not on your hands, as you sleep at night.
Under this skin, of white and of brown.
In the bones that register no preference for colour.
That break on impact, and hearts that hurt all the same.
And as this world grows again much darker, and fear and hate find new friends.
Extend your hands, and reach for any colour palm.
And fight once again for freedom.