Distant Drums

Distant drums
chant, on cold cement.
Red words attack,
dug up from aching centuries ago.
Bloodless walls bar
my blue eyes. Yet,
I think I still hear the noise.

Discontent energy-
white eyes, loud streets-
touches the people who live
in the dark black.
I try to see over the walls,
as they march outside the fences
painted white.

Cold, silent
offices, with the eagles in suits
and green lawns, stay in the safety
of their walls.
They block out the noise;
conspire to kill it;
for rock is defeated by paper.

But, the paper
ignites a spark; somewhere far,
yet heard with ease.
I feel the distant aggravation,
hear the whispered screams;
Today, right now,
the drums ignite a spark in me.