Inspired by Sepia Fashion Show, Maya Angelou.

Their noses flat, fingers stumpy, 

and familiar black hair, shade-wise.

Their tongues are short, eyebrows contort,

as they rule above you, faith-wise.

Their voices defeaning, fingers-a-pointing,

they will never hear your cries.

And their foreign silk, concealing their smirk,

haughty and superior, faith-wise.

I see them glide, on an air of pride,

they are sure to party in heaven…

while we walk the valley, our blazing finale,

“they taketh away what was given!”

The holy club, strut slow, toes tucked,

has lost love with his sinning brother—

Their holy voices, thunders, 

ferocious,

departed from the sinful other.