Rosa

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.