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You have inspired me
With your sweet nature Smooth words and intense desire For me. You make me want to Sleep, dream, live, breath in you. Which is why you have me Hands down, No questions asked, Without limitations, Nothing, not one damn thing, Standing in your way. You make me want to say Yes Definitely Of course Anything Cause you got me like that Written, drawn, marked, shaped, sculpted Created, imagined, realized Specifically for you and only you.
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When I think of everything that my mother endured
To desegregate a public restroom Or the horrors heaped on my fathers For attempting to level an everybody field; When I think of what my uncles bore Just to sit in an equal school desk And all the pain my aunts withstood To gain the respect of a titled name; When I think of the fact that Someone spit on nine from Arkansas and offered death to a little Bridges When I think of the day to day violations and violence That people still living are asked to bury deep inside them --suck it up—and walk beside their tormentor, Abuser, murderer—attempted but failed; When I think of the shameful past that people Black like me Traveled through with the courage to Live and eat and breathe next to their nemesis. I can’t help but imagine What it must be like for them. What must it be like to know the very Child you shoved in English class In hate of their blackness Sits across from you in a boardroom Reminding you of that senseless violence, The student you 2, 4, 6, 8, And threatened to hang in hate Is now the neighbor who watches out for your house Or the teacher who stands before your child Reminding you of how much you supported Segregation then, segregation now, segregation forever.. What must it be like to ask God to forgive you Because you got caught up in the moment And watched that nigger hang. You got swept up in the crowd And almost hung your own damn nigger A secret that must be cancerous, deadly waiting, inside you. What must it be like to see the world A damn, a-changing Changes that made you willing to kill To keep from happening. Must be why you like to say you were just a child You were hating like the sign of the times. Well, your victims were children too And you can’t take back the damage You gifted to them. What must it be like to be you To live knowing what you did To bury your guilt knowing that you Never had to apologize or right wrongs Cause the laws changed with the expectation That your victim would just get over it, Say thank you and move on. Whew! Thank God you caught a break, that is If you can look in the mirror And not remember—even if no one else saw you-- That you stood right there in the crowd And raised your voice to offer death by Beating, lynching, shooting, burning, beating Cause any nigger who asked to be treated equally Didn’t deserve to live. What must it be like to be you Filled with guilt and shame, Knowing that one day you will pay Societal times or not, child or not You will pay a price for the lives you stole, The hearts you broke, the spirits you crushed. My God What must it be like to be you To know that everything you were willing to do To stop progress Will be the very things on which you will be Judged and sentenced. And the only comfort left for you is the hope No prayer That your judgment comes from a God Whose ability to show mercy Far out-measures the mercy you failed to show. |
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April 2019
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