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