my people
- my scattered people
is a people of haters -
and I believe
in its ragged banners
of blackness -,
loitering
like withheld storms
over this play-world
of frightened pity -
the sign of hatred
is the sign of
the will to die alive,
and not
dance in garments of love
the life of death -
- my scattered people
is the people of love -
but its lips
are denying,
and its eyes are contempt -
a people who see
is forced
to hate a world who's blind -
- my scattered people
is the people of love -
and its way
is the way of all haters -
