A Reckonin’ Day

Fierce alway is the hunger of hope of those who,
in any given moment in any given day

(as stalwart successors of fearless forebears;
those great strugglers
who died believing,
yet ne’er beholding the morn of liberation;
their last breaths as Spirit-bequest to the next generation
to carry on!)

gnaw on bones
(olden, broken,
colorless, marrowless)
of dreams deferred,
and then, when continually, denied
by principalities who,
salivating,
relishing their bloodless,
heartless clutch on power
(by history’s prejudice of humanity’s blindness
[thus, by no personal honor or individual merit]
transmitted)
revile the idea
(should they be predisposed, for an instant
laughing at the notion, to consider it)
and e’en more that (to them: What?) reality of human equality
that e’er is the cornerstone of the tower of social equity.

Natheless, fierce alway is the hunger of hope for
(come what may,
come whene’er,
come howe’er;
for as God is, there is and will be)
a reckonin’ day.