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.

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