in the seasons of eruptive revelations...

the magma flow
of unjust practices 
has subsided---
its larva flow hardens
and winks shiny eyes…
the red river run
of summer
empties into fall’s sea---
its waves splashing
the rocky shores
of the time…leaving
misty sorrows
and frothing pains
to linger for a while,
then slowly dissipate
revolving
a circadian pattern 
of salted tears…

meanwhile…
between the equinox
we wearily walk
the tight rope of the seasons,
our nets of justice and equality
 rotted by the inclemency
of the trying times---

yet, like fallen leaves of fall,
in due season
we too shall be resurrected
by the most high sun
coming also to melt away
the winter’s snow
of cold-blooded injustice.