Song of the Sparrow

Running through your words,
I can see where
I’ve been coming from.
I run through my streets just the same
With a different shade.

Swimming in your skies
I can say I belong to a stranger place.
It’s not the same
From such great heights.

I was there beside you when
You saw the field burn.
I was hovering around you when
They took the statues down.

Mama don’t run from
The voices in your head.
When they throw you in a room
Make you confess.

Father be good
To you daughters and sons
Your quivering hands were never meant
To guide that bullet in the gun.

You say, ‘what of the rats
That ruined my brother’s meal?’

Don’t you know by now?
Painted fingers
Don’t always spell change.
But the hands that have none
Shall write me down again.