There are stories of inspiration
That surpass the trendy must-dos
Relayed through a click of a button
On the information superhighway.
And at the other end, lies a black teenager
Looking through the prism of time,
At the beautiful south that grew a dark courage
And painted the white squares, with color.
And through the turmoil of segregation
Cries of freedom ballooned out of laryngeal trumpets
To open gates that remained closed at best,
That you could walk through now.
And held by a long history cuffed around
The ankles, the march of buffalo soldiers edges forward
As the benign freedom of the white man,
Metastasizes through pixelated melanin.
For the transfiguration of a dream