Brown Children

We are the brown children
A class apart.
We are the desert of this world.
A soundless shattered place.

I’m the sun-bathed wanderer.
A man of art.
I’m the bare mountain full of gold.
A sea-escaped refugee.

A café con leche race,
with a sad heart.
We are a sullen broken smile,
carrying our wound to keep face.

A people in loose embrace,
but in a strong craze.
We’re rhythm alive in exile,
Carrying our pain with boldface.

I am the sand gatherer.
A dream in a haze.
I’m the cold south wind in foresight;
the holder of synergy.

We are the brown children
A house ablaze.
We are the wild beats of the night.
The incandescence of grace.

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Free Image on Pixabay - Child, Look, Stare, Kid, Young