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a hybrid cross
burning crosses and sheeted horses
on the white house garden
he’s a contagion
although, some of us
have natural resistance to
this virulent strain of fear and hate
as armored strength to
arms shackled behind our backs
a disharmonic symphony of souls
groaning, grinding against too close neighbors
feelings generated when in contact with another heart
the ferocious bond spans generations
making the surrounding life worth living
a sound like waves thundering
through the canopy and understory
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