dirty hands
you think you have been persecuted
as you pull tiki torches from your white suburbia
dirt clings to your hands
march in protest of the persecution you claim to be facing
as your white picket fence fades into the background
walk with frustration
while your hands remain dirty
dirty like the hands of the statues that forced dirt upon the hands of others
the others
the ones who never received the freedom of white fences and big homes
ones with forced hands dirty due to skin color
but that time has come and gone
and with the passing of time must come removal of tragic reminders
it is time to come together as one
brothers and sisters
all free from persecution