on these sidewalks cracked
red paints the winding crevasses
around my feet –
in the deep shadows,
our hands reach out to the light,
but they walk by, blind.
chaos on the street,
crowds skirting around the dead body
kicked to the curb.
the pool of blood reaches our hands,
dip our fingers into holy water forgotten,
rain pours down from the sky –
the red paint is washed away,
and it was like our grandfather was never there,
brow beaten in, blood from the corner of his lips.
the next day, media talks about the famous divorces,
scattered showers, and broken engagements,
inane conversations – Americans tune in.
and we stay in the shadows,
blood pooling around our legs,
forgotten and ignored.
this is what is happening in america right now. attacks on asian americans are rising. and it is being underreported in the media.
tell me, how long does this have to go on before something is done?