On Various Subjects

[sweetlikewheatley]

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[sweetlikewheatley]

mists of leftover soil: on being Black in america

the question of aged earth remains how long does it take  for rock edges to smooth?

for the perceived imperfections to diminish?

how many years before the chastising  whip

of the water proves  too much? before the warm and well-meaning winds  lead to crumbling  and buckling, dwindling the chunks of earth to nothing? 

mists of soil, through air, between fingers one could wonder what else in nature acts this  way coarse demanding unending

and so capable of forcing  its way, unsure  of the ultimate cost unkind

resulting in alleged exhale in palms spread, open  to release  control and waiting to feel a difference to accept blame  for the lost and unrecognizable  pieces

caring not of the lasting effect 

we could call the rocks bones holding all ages and history deep within have we treated both the aged and lucid the same?

“perspective” and “devil’s advocate” and textbook rewrites,  and Heritage Not  Hate and confederate flags and “the war was actually  about agriculture” and “you’re so well spoken” and the harm is still our fault and reverse racism and  the nonprofit industrial complex and mass  incarceration and bans on the way my hair  grows out of my head and Black maternal mortality and  still  being afraid to drive through Alabama  at night and and and 

acting  as the river beating, thrashing and trying to change our shapes until we’re gone, nothing  but mists of soil, floating past what resembles memories on heavily edited pages 

weighed, tested in strength integrity to tell their truth of their beginning with the wind  their endless and unjust  trials ending with the water

left with smoothed edges all the same