by Michael Plante

I dragged that racist bastard up the mountain side;
expelled a lot of energy
calluses on my feet
calluses on my hands
achy shoulders
and a hunger in my belly.

It fought all the way;
skin ripped off its heels
knees scraped
hands bruised
achy shoulders
and a hunger in its belly.

By my death or the light of the Creator
its darkness shall be exposed,
the chain of justice binds us together.
That racist bastard had seeped into my soul
many years ago.
I’m just as infected as it is;
hatred is hatred no matter the justification or reasoning.

I grind my teeth just like racism
I call out that bastard from the darkness
my hands dirty
my chain is pure.
I hear its’ call from the darkness
taunting me to a fight
I bit like a hungry fish
I was hooked for life.

I drag that racist bastard up the mountain side
a lifetime struggle.
Like a hermit the Creator awaits the top of the mountain;
sees both sides.
The valley of light and the valley of darkness,
I call my intent pure
and hand the chain over to the Creator.

My life’s struggle complete
my battered body can now rest
I know there’s contentment on the horizon
I can see it in the valley below
such pride is felt by the righteous mind
even one as infected as I.

The Creator unchains that racist bastard
and watches as it runs back down into the valley of darkness.
It disappears into an abyss
I hear it taunting me again.

The Creator hands me my chain
I’m exhausted
my hands are tired and my shoulders ache
I’m ready for peace.
I drop my chain
the Creator smiles.

A path in the light exposes contentment,
into the next valley I travel
the taunting calls of that racist bastard are no longer.
It died when it lost my attention.

All compositions that appear on The Poet’s House are composed by Michael Plante and are subject to copyright.

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