Ching Chong Chinaman Ching
Chong Chinaman Ching Chong
Chinaman
Those were the days unfiltered –
hissy, jagged, cruel. Skulking
in the shadows, they now
snarl back around. So she walks,
she keeps walking like always,
eyes steadied forward and clear
slanted and smartened at every street corner,
the way whispers how to best go:
Flow kindness to all outcast Others.
Stand with souls to keep their
bones whole.
Raise fist as required.
Welcome the stranger at the end
of the block with words that heal,
not bleed.
19