More cold than the season could possibly express,

Hangs in the air and the hearts of man.

We speak not of atrocities, we’d rather repress

Waged against others by their brother’s hand.

.

Considering ourselves a civilized sort,

Still in prejudice and intolerance we stand.

Giving no venue for them to retort

In what with affection we call the promised land.

.

This promise so cruel–seems held for the few

While the rest us are left to our own devices

The whip of the wealthy cracks to tame the shrews

While living high amongst their golden vices

.

Inequalities based on race, creed and color exist no matter how we wish them to fade,

Persisting throughout the years, not because we are right, but instead because we are afraid.

.

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~