Who will look at the sun and say,
‘I know this sky, bright and blue’
The blood that flood the sun rays
is what you and I shed
for freedom and liberation
Thousands went up in smoke in the fire of freedom
Thousands shot through the barrel of liberation
Thousands mourn, with their arms spread
Decapitated limbs and torso and heads
fell in their prayers
How does one unsing songs
the notes of which
touched in places orgasmic
uncompose poems written in trance
How does one undo romances
that haunt with an ache
unlove love which was felt
in a moment of spontaneity
Now, how do I wash a kiss
of fire that rained
till it rode away in a taxi
at five in the morning
Even clothes wear memories,
burn them or wear them
He emerges from a hole in the ground
and yes he is all black
no no no
he isn’t a rabbit or a mouse
don’t mistake his blackness
as ugliness of his soul
even if his lungs are smeared black
he helps the world stay warm
he drills the ground like his life
he fills his lungs with dirt
to fed his wife and son
whom he returns to at night
with pride and love
without washing or dining
he blows his dirt filled lungs
at the fire place
so his family stays warm
so the world keeps moving and
you feel his presence
in your life
if you ponder enough
for without the coal miner
and his soothing face black
his family would be wasted
the world would be cold
WordsWorthMillions 