Shadows in a meadow green
where clouds press gray unseen
and rain taps a beat on the leaves.
Water in my eyes,
yet clarity refuses all disguise…
anger, hatred, ignorance…
My blade is acceptance.
Equality painted as misbegotten
to cover inexcusable oppression
and hoping memory is a forgotten lesson.
Sword held tight,
I’ll stand with those cowered in the night
until hope’s beacon does glow.
My blade is compassion.
I’ll not lock step, but die free,
embracing humanity till it tastes equality,
each life a value not based on money.
Compassion warriors all,
united and wielding loving-kindness tall,
and over time our truth won’t lose.
©July 2015, Christina Anne Hawthorne