Patterns

and bussing in my best friend in fifth grade
Or the highlight of Hank Aaron circling the bases at his 715th
in the city of Resurgens,
defined by its movement away from the old south,
yet shadowed by the darkness carved on Stone Mountain
It hasn’t been so long
in smoky blaring rooms and punk bands
Scenes corrupted by manchildren
with shaved heads and white laces on their boots,
commanding attention and disdain,
threatening in their presence,
pushing you and your friends from behind
Their names and faces showing up in journals
of the Southern Poverty Law Center
Just a small slice of my humble young life
Entrenchment doesn’t turn on a dime
Remediation doesn’t take with turning away
Lifetimes are spent shedding time and trauma
The work is never done
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