i find it incredible
that you can look me dead in the eye
ignoring my dead comrade
and talk about the justice in this country
when the judge, jury, and executioner of the blacks
sits in the executive branch, alone
brandishing their badge
retrofitted to read "officer"
rather than "slave catcher"
and truth is framed as false
against their flimsy fabrications of innocence
that amazes me

i find it incredible
that you can be surprised by those boys in blue
beating our black skin blacker 'n' blue
'till red runs down our cheeks like tears from our eyes
so used to witnessing this onslaught of slaughter
that we can't cry tears half the time
that amazes me

i find it incredible
that you can honestly ask me
"how could this happen?"
as i fail to find footing
on this razor thin line
between being blinded by tears
trembling with grief, anger, and fear
and being so numb i can't speak
feeling like a monster for a lack of reaction
to the atrocities i have to witness
i've found a happy-less medium
and must be content to remain numb with rage
that amazes me

i find it incredible
that you can graciously remind me not to forget white and blue
while i scream into the void that i matter, too
unless, of course, i happen to be brandishing a hairbrush
or somehow disrupt your white life
then you quickly affix an asterisk to the word "all"
that amazes me

i find it incredible
that you can proudly proclaim your allyship
and in the same breath explain how
that black was a criminal
but i'm one of the "good ones"
because i'm not ghetto
and conditioned code switches into my DNA
so i'm not a threat unless i ask you to reel it in
and just possibly stop saying "******"
it triggers panic and makes me sick
when it falls from your pale lips
yet i stomach it and swallow my anxiety
sitting with a twisting gut in your presence
that amazes me

i find it incredible
that you seem to have this superpower
pulling you from awareness into blissful oblivion
that i can only imagine
because your life's not on the line
that amazes me

you and i were running laps
i in blue sneakers, you in red
just a friendly competition
i had a bad limp
i was keeping pace with you
i drew attention to my leg
how i fought not to wince
every time my foot hit the gravel
how i’d been kicked
by someone wearing red sneakers
right before we began
it made you uncomfortable
defensive
angry
and you pointed to your leg
showing a similar bruise
from when you’d tripped and fell
earlier that day
  you don’t get it
you said
  you can’t complain
  because i have a limp too
  and the coach accounted for it
  and gave me a headstart
you said
  but i do
i said
  because i started last anyway
  and the coach “didn’t see” my bruise
  and no one ever will
i said
but you had already left
to run with someone less depressing
less sad
less me
but what i hadn’t gotten to tell you
is that you don’t get it
i had a limp from birth

I always knew I could
weave magic with a pen,
but I never realized that
the magic could pull
tears from dry eyes,
or pain from numb hearts,
or warmth from cold souls,
or inspiration from empty minds.