When the wind finally strikes
the faces of timid men
they cower or run, in fear
for their beliefs are in danger
in danger of being swept away
in one swoosh, the fresh breeze
coming in cool, from the east
may wash away years of prejudice
these men, who won’t walk with you
eat with you, or let your shadow fall upon them
will suddenly find no refuge
in the face of these mighty winds
that bring with them
a cathartic rain
that will finally ease the fires
that the winds would’ve wrought
and in those rains
you and I will feel the droplets on our face
and dance, like children
on mad streets
with paper boats in their hands.
