The sound of these myopic tears converge
Within your heart, so cast your vision far
Beyond the scars of color that would merge
Upon the flesh of yellow, brown, or tar:

You felt a day of pain and smoke, congealed
With words of degradation, that “the law’s
The law” no matter where you sit. Repeal
The anger of the prison cell, wrecked raw

Across your chocolate skin encased in night,
A masterful design. But still you see
Each bus, a churning sea of blue and white:
It’s time to take a stand against, and be

The boycott walking, clad in leather shoes,
While wheels of buses cease to turn around.
They put your seat on trial and your view
Of what it is to be a human, down

To weather-worn, constructive soles of feet
That shout a hopeful verse, a strident sea;
That come together on the streets and beat
A timeless tempo of equality.