POETRY: 'Black Man's Shoes' by Robert Drake

Dilapidated and Whithered
Callous and discreet
Is a man's spirit,
After it has been beaten down by the
Devil's Wood.
His backside aches with pangs
of reminiscent failure,
and exposure to whips
rationalized with torture.
His feet bleeds with every wary step,
and night creeps upon him like
Satan's offspring prying their jaws open
to devour their next
soul...Souls...
All around him are white men
dressed in black suits.
He ponders why colors can exist in
harmony but human beings cannot..
He regrets his thoughts,
for they are only non-vocalized
expression and he can never take back
the Words He Never Said...
He dreams of Lasers,
guiding, pointing,
Showing him the way.
Yet,
Silent and peculiar.
He doesn't want to experience death
twice...Twice...
His heart ruptures frantically,
as every disturbance
reawakens the memory of a
black man's ordeals.
He searches within himself,
for the solution to rid himself
of his pain-rekindling memories.
"For every problem there is a Solution"
Death?
A swift liberation,
a grasp of deaths chilly chilled
hand?
Time progresses constantly
as the black man reaches the midway
of his life's journey...
A young visage, devoid of any animosity,
inquisitively asks,
"Is life hard?"
Every word is precious,
and knowing this to be true,
speaks from his heart...
"YES, life is pragmatic in his
endeavor to break down the soul into
shards of intangible matter..."
He takes off his shoes and gestures
the young man to wear them.
"But...it will mold you into the man you were meant to be"
Prejudice has no presence
in this sacred union
between white and black.
The marked genesis of white comprehension,
of a black man's struggles.
All he had to do was walk in a
Black Man's Shoes...

Copyright 2011| Robert Drake