Dawning

There is a lava flowing under the streets. It is burning hot in the dilapidated hovels Graced by black bodies. It shivers at the edges of the white houses with the sharp fences and the bare driveways. Those houses spew out a blistering mist. The red coils seek a way in, a crack in the oppressive white cloud. That cloud that clings to eye and ear and nose and mouth. It suffocates. It chokes. It blinds. It clogs. In that blackness the lava………blisters………boils……readies. Gathers. Swells! In the hearts of the oppressed. It streams up the walls and lampposts. Bubbles through the streets and sidewalks. Melts back the piercing mist. Peels the prejudice from eyes. Flows down and into ears and mouths. Fills the bellies and hearts and minds of the blacks. Freed from their own fears and chains they, wait resolute, for the sun.