Lawn Chair Revelations

To sit outside in skyblue sunshine,
in the palm of my chair for the clouds to see,

revolution stirs in the soil beneath me,
the dirt thrusts peaceful green blades up like hands in protest,

release comes on the wind,
freedom begotten by stillness,

liberate ourselves from the chaos in hatred,
sit in the silence of humility.

the sun takes x-rays of my chest,
and leaves me UV to show me the malleability of race

I'm pressed into the earth,
weighted by a confidence in good

rays heat chest and close eyes,
bring us back to day from dark night and always win,

for there is no longer the turmoil of the soul's dark night,
my prejudices are strewn on the highway

words cast from windows at the behest of wiser words,
its good to lose to thoughts that win you a great deal.

and who might sit with me? brothers, shirtless in the sun,
smiling at clouds that pass on a world which once believed such congregations inappropriate

and me in my lawn chair, a sticky-skin back leans back into a plastic back
and looks up

lawn chair revelations about race and belonging,
a clear summer sky and the weight of humid smiles sing praises for the purity of fellowship,

and the purity of beer,
and the purity of laughter

and i'm imperfect and politically incorrect
and i'm happy and not alone

i am not color blind,
the grass is green.