Alabaster Cities

This is an old poem that I wrote a few months ago. I entered it into a contest and managed to snag second place, though I'll admit that it's nowhere near my best work. I've spruced it up a bit since then, so I hope that it's easier to get the message across. It's essentially about racism, but like most poems its meaning can definitely be expanded.

Even unto the realm of chocolate filled donuts. Yes. Even there.

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He walks through alabaster streets

Where no one knows his name,

Where they pelt him with stones

As if they themselves have never sinned

And insist that he is less than human.

And he cries

Oh he cries

For Father to take him home.

But Father,

He knows

That the boy has been home all along.

So sing, son of stone!

Lift your voice to your maker.

You are human---

Perhaps more human

Than them all.

Break the ivory towers

Like a concrete-cracking flower.

Crumble into rubble,

O Jericho,

And let the people pass.

We have waited too long

To be freed from your tyranny. 

We are children of the future

And not of the past.