I wear it
On my skin
The shame you
Taught me to believe
Was appropo
I hear it in my bones
The creaking of your
Stupendous weapons of blood and war
On which my ancestors
Were merely cargo
I speak your language
And eat your food
Because my history was beaten
From my people
With whips
In beads of sweat and blood
Tattooed into my brain
Byway of your epics
Of colorism
I am literally
What you made me
Kept as pets
But hated for our presence
Hated the blood you could not
Chase from the marrow
From the flesh
Of a people well versed
In the music of their ancestors
And the drumbeats of our hearts
More intriguing still
Is the fairness
You cannot give
To a people
Condemed by their captors
Help me to understand
Why still
One hundred and fifty years
Later you
Are still bad at chess?
You cannot understand
Why our blood sings stories
Of anger and pain
Upon deaf ears
Why we run from traffic stops
In the middle of the night
When seeing through our eyes
Our ancestors can only see dogs and torches
Oh pray you
Lesrn someday
Why you cannot be so oppressed
Whisper to God with bloodied lips
And stinging backs that
You hope your children remain
At your side.
For this long out
They still take ours
Broken necks and high trees
Are the generational trauma of my people
But we are uppity when we speak such truths?
