Black children dream in colour,
but live in a
racially bias-ly
undeniably
world obsessed with black and white.
Though nothing ever seems to be black and white.
Lost in the grey area,
where everyone has an image,
but still no one gets the picture.
Only some see this bigger idea,
only some see that the decisions about us have been taken without us.
So, stop screaming about the riots and looters,
because you can’t ever really blame people,
ignored by society for ignoring society.
I’ve been struggling to find new words for these same situations,
knowing I’ve exhausted the depths of my vocabulary,
painting protests with my words.
And I have been crying,
reflecting and gasping,
grasping and clutching,
but I found new words to bleed through today.
Fresh cuts planted on unhealed,
perpetual generational wounds,
first felt by our ancestors,
still felt by us.
You see,
a disrespect to others
stems from a discomfort within.
And while you live blissfully in ignorance,
these words come from the kind of wisdom only pain can teach.
So, do you understand your own biases?
Your privileges?
Do you understand that we never wanted to be martyrs made hashtags?
Trending then forgotten, quietly erased.
We just wanted to live equally, to breathe freely.
Malcolm x said, “That’s not a chip on my shoulder, that’s your foot on my neck.”
And over 5 decades later, there are still knees on our necks.
We were born with the worlds knees on our necks,
closing our throats,
crushing our voices and silencing us.
But I will not be silenced.
So, this is for BREONNA TAYLOR,
For MARK DUGGAN,
For SANDRA BLAND,
For GEORGE FLOYD,
For BELLY MUJINGA,
For ERIC GARNER,
For TARIKA WILSON,
For TRAYVON MARTIN,
For KATHRYN JOHNSTON,
For STEPHEN LAWRENCE,
For ATTIANA JEFFERSON,
For AHMAUD ARBERY.
And for all those in between,
for all those we lost along the way,
for all those who didn’t get to stay,
for all those who didn’t see their journey,
or get to see their life take shape.
Remember their faces.
Learn their stories.
Say their names.