if only the fox was on the run.
color fills black and darkening dreams scared off
back to the hutch.
hesitancy’s virtues have no truth when the hunt comes to its end as feast in massacre.
bodies back to the universe. predators full yet unfulfilled in this comfort.
may spirits of those still here rise up, push back, bring voice for those who cannot breathe.
light the skies where tears are done falling – the flood has proven an insufficient lesson again.
each outfit, for school, for work, to live turns one into soldier. life is
each inhale a battle.
ghosts, ancestors, orisha = veterans
sermons, beliefs, gospels held hostage.