racism creeped out of the cave of history on it’s hands and knees
a dark fog follows its path and bellows into the sky creating an overcast of toxicity
weakened by the strong hands of extended palms formed by open minds
it crawled contorted by the resonating warmth of acceptance
it’s cold crippled hands feebly extended like a dying tree’s last stable appendage
the voices of justice swung their damning axe through the fog and came crashing down on the weakened limb of hatred
the axe disintegrated on contact
and the thick fog cleared

the disintegrated pieces transformed into an abundance of multi-colored butterflies in a swarm of love
it cowered back into the damaged cave
beaten and defeated

the butterflies expanded their wings side-by-side in togetherness and created a blockade of diversity and acceptance to prevent the face of racism from from showing itself again

and when it regains its strength

the axe will sharpen

and the butterflies will swarm