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Saturday, August 11, 2018

New poem by Julie A. Dickson

The Curve


It is wise to knock down pedestals of power,
wipe away entitled glances, the way they glower
at those deemed less worthy
in a world where straight is perceived as best,
where the curve of alternatives is frowned upon.
.
Caucasians compete for supreme power
over those berated for belief or race;
they remain blind , refusing to face diversity,
in a world where white is becoming a minority.
Their narrow views are firmly rooted,
while others yell, “me too”.

Victims long silent, skewed justice prevailed
under guise of religion or truth; assailants of the curve -
non- straight or dark complexions hated,
no ability to accept or assuage fear,
that women and people of color will persevere.

With demographic information to peruse,
clear statistics stated, but some still choose
not to see countries that surpass white by far.
Those in power, deluded by grandiose illusions,
in cloud-minding towers- look down
at the masses they deem below them.

We, the curve - seen as Troglodytes
who speak in foreign tongues,
walk among them…waiting.


Julie A. Dickson
Exeter, NH

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