or is it
The Southern Lyre
Who is burning the churches? Make them stop!
After weaving our way through the new upscale Charlotte-city limits suburban scrawl out Rae Road through her country memory, my mom and I persuade the cop protecting the vacated scene to let us past the yellow and black plastic ribbons to see the smoldered mess not much left - blackened beams, jambs kicked in by anonymous torch, red clay wet from last night's useless hoses- a little house with vacant front porch right across the street - I imagine the fear and
went home and wrote this poem:
A Call for
Vertical Integration in the Eye of the Storm
Purple & blue tiffany combo in
Church of my childhood struggle of perfect
Public meat longing again vine-covered
Power flower conflict hunger for green
Struggle if that is sin then separation
Grace abounds even more than bonds-
Doubt boundaries not programmable
Stretched grace strikes us down-
Social eels demand ransom, children
Do not bow your heads tranquility of hymns
Is shattered & addressed two days ago I
Saw the Black Ash of a Church Burned on its
Sure Foundation Century old pin oaks scorched
Against stones of those who can't leave this sight-
Who witnessed who drove away burning the sermon during
___________________________________
Charlotte,
I love you deeply
That's why I had to leave
I see your changes keyed up rapidly flashing past the new contra dance named the Independence Boulevard which is way convoluted like the traffic which is nothing compared to here up North from whence I sign this letter
Letter Out, Letter Back
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem