Storms of Anger (#1)
In response to Racism during the Harlem Renaissance
Storms are born within ourselves
The hatred rages through our body like a tidal wave and
Our words are pushed through our mouth from a gust of wind
Our eyes fill with dark clouds and
We can hear sounds of thunder
The lava in our veins make us boil in density
Though we may think it’s the ground,
It is ourselves that are shaking from anger
We can feel our fingers
Slowly twisting, like a tornado, into fists
There is no way to stop the storm now
It attacks and the other face gets struck by a superstorm
Now comes the aftershock…
Our moment of realization…
We look at the other face
Their features dragging to the ground
Before we have a moment to speak, the weather changes
A rainstorm falls upon their cheeks
They are frozen in place like ice cycles
Their hands hide their face like a sheet of snow covering the ground
We want to reach out and touch their ocean
But they've been through enough
You can see it on their brown skin,
Burned from the flames of hate.
