Actions Speak Louder

Was it the echoes of bullets
from decades ago
on the streets of LA, Selma
or Montgomery?
Have they traveled so far?
Have they pierced the veils of time
to hunt us in the present?
Bringing strips of cotton
stained with blood
and woven back together
to create a new shroud.
Those bullets passed through your stores,
your children, your leaders
Ricocheted off your disco balls
marred the brick of your houses
and found you even while protected
and protecting.
These bullets indiscriminately perforating
black and brown bodies
leaving a trail of broken hearts,
dashed dreams for the future,
plastic toys
littered through time
From what fire was this metal forged?
Whose hands reach through the flame now,
and What do they seek?
Justice? Revenge? Power?

To catch a bullet is a tricky thing.
Your body may be left in the streets and incite riots
or the metal may simply pass through you and into the next dark body.
If the metal lingers in the minds of the people
Your body may become the forging fire
turning it into molten metal
and reforming it into
armor
to protect us
as we march toward
alchemy
For this is the business of
transformation.