Thank You

There's a poverty of love
A poverty of love that invades our imagination
A poverty of love that invades our home
Like a distant relic proverbial in nature
I've seen the suns that seem to melt beyond the blackened hearts of our people
Voices which seem to speak of things only our hearts can conjure
Bullets that prayed the inner city canvas like medallions of anger
Western philosophies insistence on seductive pleasures  
I've seen the romantic ideologies of love which leave our people anxious
Walking this arbitrary line between seeing the light and walking backwards
As music perforates through the scolding hot bowels of peace and justice
And brothers sing of the light that danced with the darkness
We hope these colors reach your soul and reawaken the message of love that's cloaked in armor
Beneath the stories of places "too old" to touch
Too old for lovers
The poetry of flowers
Soaked in the love of places we hold hostage
I've seen you at the gates of heaven
My grandmother knew me...My grandfather loved me
Like heavenly notes of golden churches in blank city
Like Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, or Gandhi
What about the crack houses? the drugs? the weapons and poverty?
The brothers who speak the pain of jail houses full of family
And progress framed through the lens of economic mobility
Children swayed by the taste of sugar which masks the pain of mental slavery
Like smoke that rises through the gates of penitentiaries