I forgot what it felt like
To be burned
The familiar sting of sensitive skin brushed against fabric
All too real for me.
I wonder if she, too, felt pain like this.
Days spent basking in the sun on summer days,
While cancer scrawled upon her skin like a signature.
Sometimes I think she knew what she was doing,
Laying there,
Letting herself be killed,
Slowly,
But surely.
I hope she sees me,
Walking with friends.
Hundreds of us,
Marching for racial equality.
Would she have scoffed at the idea?
Or scolded me for not protecting my delicate shield?
Say,
“Your heart may armor your conviction,
But it does nothing for your ivory skin”?
But I know,
The lace on my wedding dress may hurt now,
But I will heal.
I cannot say the same for my brothers and sisters of color.
I will not let them lay there,
And be killed.
I received incredibly painful sunburn while protesting police brutality this weekend. If that's the worst pain I am delivered from this movement, I am beyond privileged.