What to do about rage? Impotence?
Or the fear
of being
yet-another generation mutely immortalized
in photographs painting
pained appeals for humanity?
An American flag flies mere feet above the head of a Black girl flying a kite.
This symbol that has meant everything
to some of the worst
and some of the best people
its nation has seen.
This symbol that is now ours to mold.
What to do about the apple pie of bigotry?
And the perpetual threat of that girl’s joy being smothered
by those she is instructed to trust?
We will choose to soar,
any way.
