The Wall of the Christian West
Celeste Stanley

To my impoverished black brother, trying to find warmth inside of a Barnes and Noble Café, who was forced to leave because of his economic status.

Someone tell me what happened that day
When we forgot to wash the sins of the world away
When we chose to close our eyes
And discriminize
Everything we deem odd

Prejudice speaks no mercy
It's baptized in a façade
That thorns and crucifies God
Taking drink from the Lord's thirsty

So maybe they should put a whites' only sign outside
To keep the coons, scared up and lips wide
On the inside
Of non-acceptance
Acceptance only uttered and visioned
The only way is mainstream circumcision

And while I looked around
Sipping on hot-cocoa
The Lord left that place
Someone tell me where did the Lord go?
Or maybe it was the full moon in the sky
That made the Lord leave that place
Even kiss that place goodbye.

A Senegalese security guard
A Muslim behind the table stand
Said this is not a human being
This coon is just a homeless man
Blood stained, scarred up, ragged clothes, lips wide
My black brother keep your head up
You have not died
Weary eyed
Body torn and faded
Striped away from self
Pride waiting to be exonerated
When shall he find his peace
Or the fear decline
Or the staring cease
And not be dimmed as a homeless black man
Tell me when we shall find only beauty
In a poor African
A man devoid of self
Economically enslaved
Trying to free himself
Seeking the modern day book of liberation
While our minds tread the journey of mental proliferation
And stop denying
Stop trying
Stop buying
Stereotypes that only get thrown into flames
The poor die
But we invest in "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire" games

A Muslim behind the table stand
A Senegalese security guard
Trying to discard what they thought was trash
This man was Jesus
They didn't know because they didn't ask
They only see his black tea
His vinegar potato chips
The unforgiving clothes rotten
The blood oozing from his lips
They only felt the wide blanket of insecurity
Tell me who the culprit is
A homeless man or abandoned purity
Life fresh and sweet, like thoughts contemporary
Yet, discarded and shunned
Existence temporary
And then he vanished.

While we were singing Ave Maria's
Another soul was banished
By preconceived ideas
That his presence was outlandish
Rude
Grotesque
We must all be murderers
We wear the word across the chest
We preach heaven and claim Christianity
We must all be vain
For we breathe the word vanity
We breathe it
It comes in different varieties
A religion, a false God
Marking every beast in society
If our eyes are blind
Then we make them so
We only choose to surrender
What doesn't fit the status quo
And I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I too fall victim
Brainwashed or conformity
Both die in this system
I have chosen one or the other
The Homeless came
The Wealthy left
One after another
And I did nothing.

That day I watched the lynching
Of a poor African
Not of his flesh
But of the spiritual, internal man
He died
I died
We died
Once again we saw our Jesus crucified
Eyelashes of mercy
Asking for a drink
We took the drink from the thirsty
And all Ave Maria's come to an end.

If we are not the culprits
Who do we choose to defend
Those without voice
Or those blind by choice
Those living in slums
Or out on the street
Or Hollywood's best
And the heart of Wall Street
Choose well humanity
Sing your Ave Maria's
But let go the vanity
The wide road is vanity
For a Muslim and Senegalese
And of my black brother
That story is not known by me
But my brother
My shunned brother
Blood stained, scared up, ragged clothes, lips wide
My black brother keep your head up
You have not died.