And They Walk

They walk in the streets, their signs shimmer and glow with more than just words. They stand in the fields, their hands scratched and worn as they remember the stories of family, of life before. They run from the everlasting fear of their ancestors, the fear of the teeth and fists that stand outside waiting. Waiting for the moment, waiting for our brown tired eyes to glance away from the locked windows and slammed doors. waiting for the moment to bruise and cut the black of our skin. Our brothers and sisters stare into the eyes of those who whisper, those who watch, and those who look away. they keep their eyes up and chins pointed to the dark sky, knowing that what they do now will change everything, knowing that what they do now will burst a hole in the bag of hatred and death. So They walk.