The Spirit is no contained, candled wisp.

My students knew this. They knew history.
One young man appraised Mahalia Jackson,
said, “Faith reminded them
they were people.”
 
Freire claimed oppressors are not free,
constrained by their definition of human.
The oppressed smash the chains binding both.
Resistance is revision,
the truest mercy I know.
 
Today, I want to write LOVE on my bricks
before I throw them, let their arc become
a different sort of rainbow. Maybe a blaze.
The Spirit knows.
Love is a riot.