For Michael Brown and Ferguson
There is a dark ragesong rising
in the streets.
When they cut him open to see how he died,
they recorded that his brown arms were uplifted
towards heaven
an open handed fearprayer
more than one hundred feet away
from the gunman,
one more flame extinguished.
Sometimes in the most horrible moments
we see the chains
wrapped around our world
squeezing
the breath out of dreams.
But you can’t stop this rising,
you can’t stop this turning
Sometimes insurrection
is just
another name
for the ferocity
required to
Love or withstand
this world.
We need to live
in a way
that hurts
so much less than this.
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