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7
RAINING UPON THE GRANDEUR OF HOPE
Today the rain fell
steadily;
her drops reminiscent
of waters drowning
justice struggling
to survive tidal waves
of deception
seeking to douse
the flame of hope
held in the hand
of an elusive lady trying
to bear her anchored mooring.
The reality of the dream
remains deferred—
the children
of past and present cargo
remain on the outskirts of equanimity;
and while all lives matter
and crime knows no hue of skin,
it’s a crying shame
that injustice
is still considered not to be a crime;
and keeping hope alive
is still an illusion of its own mind.
