It isn't real
just a story you
keep telling
yourself as if
you haven't a clue

And it's true
we are all connected by
some kind of bonded
reality that provokes us
to feed into

weep for all the days
you've forgotten that for now
you are located between
the skin and the bones

Unseen
you are one of many like
a singular pattern in the
wavelength of God

Whatever has torn up the room
has sat on your mother's
back breaking her

but you look the other way
too painful to see
what's already in your face
a lynching here a shooting there

It's not me you say
and shrug it all away
I didn't steal anybody you said
but tortured bodies wailed
underneath the crack
of your ancestor's whip
and still you reap from
the ghosts of yesterday

don't you hear them
the black lipped rage
that keeps yelling at you

but still you look the other way
and sip your latte
with a deafening smirk upon
your face as if you are not
one of us

human

This is not a plea for reparations
yet it would be a wise gesture
nor a begging for a hand out
yet it would serve you to be kinder

It may be futile to you
to look a black person in the eye
with the truth on your tongue
but if we can't save you
then maybe underneath it all
nobody could

Here I am again
trying to keep from sinking
but I am the dead weight
recollection of heavy bones

I try to pull it
out of me the black rays
feeding inside me
caged and reeling
a wounded raven

I dream of somewhere
beyond my reach
then I let the core flutter