Young, middle, and aged, gathered
in the room. Some to support,
some to defend, some to hate,
others to learn. And despite
the strategic church-like
outbursts, all were respectful,
that is until a light brown one called
a dark brown one an “uncle tom sellout
negro.” Ruckus ensued, those that
needed to remain fled, and when
reconvened the air had a stench.
That micro incident emphasized
the macro purpose; to succeed
we must treat each other better.
© 2014 Dara Kalima