Second Coming
Second Coming
They have stretched their eyes beyond three hundred million miles,
expecting to find only scarecrows,
as if everything about me comes masked in rage.
Like the clearest breeze bypassing the smart filters of their noses,
I will intoxicate their beliefs,
breaking down the dry bones
of those who doubted my melanin.
I am soft as stone
and hard as harmony.
I will fine-tune the crescendo of their confusion
until they learn to catch love without clenched fists.
Sorry for sounding metallic;
I heard your parents pampered you with plastic palms.
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