I am amber with the fire for change burning in my soul.
It is the kind of amber that burns not to consume but to purify.
It is not the traffic light kind of amber for caution but one that says,
‘Listen, that is the sound of my heart beating and exercising its duty
To circulate consciousness within and without this soul capsule.
Today, my amber engulfs my hair and makes me look like
The burning bush in the wilderness.
My amber-flicker eyes see through the calloused faces
Of the greedy men who rub their faces into the sands of
A soulless desert floor.
I hear them sing the anthem of an obliterated land that swallows
My heart and keeps my bones and flesh to boil in the kitchen of ignorance.
I sit on the edge of my cliff of dreams at sunset and see
The sun resonate his amber warmth to remind me that
I am still the man my people need.
One who can breathe in anger and exhale kind hopefulness
For a generation of seekers.
Frank Malaba ©2013
Frank Malaba Prosetry 