and standing in the checkout line of a department store
with my mother and my older sister.
it is only days after parkland.
my sister is getting clothes for her inductions into the honor societies at school,
and i am standing in the checkout line of a department store
with my mother and older sister
“nobody move!” they scream.
and my mother grabs my arm.
my hands fist into my shirt and within seconds my knuckles are white.
the ladies at the registers are ready with their phones in hand
a moment later i hear a laugh,
and see the automatic doors open
and see two white teenagers walk out.
and standing in the checkout line of a department store
with my mother and older sister
and i am scared to breathe.
these people find it funny to joke about the suffering others.
they find it funny to ignite a fear in my stomach that is so bad
i throw up in the bathroom afterward.
and standing in the checkout line of a department store
with my mother and older sister
and i am scared for my life.
and standning in the checkout line of a department store
with my mother and older sister
and i know that i will not let this happen.
will the black youth of birmingham be next?
taken down by the hands of someone who hates unjustly
and shoots bullets like they are his life and not theirs.
will be the next hashtag?
will that be enough for you?
if i am sitting in the middle of my algebra i class
and someone bursts in with a gun and
i know exactly what to do
will i become one more corpse
the old age that every other person deserves.
i want to see my hair fall grey
and my back begin to curve.
i want to feel my memory go away.
and get my drivers license.
and sitting with a paper and pencil
and a protest sign in front of me.
i refuse to die in silence.
and i have the changing world at my fingertips.
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