Systematic suffering in place.
Our souls filled with tribulation
Police batons against the flesh of colored skin
We live in fear.
Hands that should protect
grip our necks
and fingers grip triggers fired with neglect…
Choke-holds and bullet wounds become the new lynching.
And we can’t breath….
Breathing While Black is enough to warrant homicide
against Black lives
That are then vilified
So murder becomes “justified”
Our tears evaporate before they hit the ground.
Because to you, our tears don’t matter.
How can they, when our lives don’t matter?
And our struggles don’t matter….
And our poverty don’t matter…
And our pain don’t matter…
Even our unjustified deaths don’t matter…
“Get over it,” they say.
But, it’s hard to get over hate that haunts and taunts us every day
Hard to turn away the pain encoded in our DNA
Hard to ignore the fact
that simply being born Black
puts a unfair target on our back.
And some won’t even acknowledge their privilege.
The blood of our ancestors fertilized your “amber waves of grain”
Their bodies hung among your “fruited planes”…
Your freedom at our ancestor’s expense.
Our inheritance – tribulation
Our legacy – consistent grief.
Our futures – under attack
Our hope – damn near deplete.
We became dispensable the moment we became “free”.