within the streets of Rosewood
strangers walk on by – deep in thoughts
and hidden away in last night’s dream
the eyes of many colors stare into the sky.
**
the store fronts are empty now
only glass and dirty floors –
doors that are unopened-
warped in their worn frame
such was the fruit of Rosewood.
***
the main road into town crumbled
long ago and only the ghosts of naked wheat
bend and kiss the wind – there lingers in my mind
a child without a home -her clothes left beneath
the dust and rubble of cement and bone.
****
the church bells rusted and unhinged –
spent in rain and sun – the fire that burns the body
seems to sink into the ground – what was once beauty
in its rising and setting stages – another flower is born.
*****
the wind sings if you listen in silence – the children
silent and starving can hear the stars praying
to the God they’ve never seen – in their mind are questions
for the wealthy sitting at banquet tables – with a gun in their hand.
******
no tears left in those empty eyes – no pleading cries to hear
for the hunger and thirst placed upon the poor – hum and roar
the streets buckle and burn with dust -blood and setting sun
they surely will testify before the judgment seat of God
when the sky becomes fire and thunder – love reigns triumphant
as the book of life is read.
DoubleSpeak 