“All I wanted to do in my painting, the story I wanted to tell was: Look around you; they’re still here.” - Vincent Valdez

Years ago, I stood in front of it,
Anger, sickness, heartbreak,
All at once.

This is modern day.
Men in fancy watches,
Women in nice jewelry,
Holding their children.
In the background, a new truck,
One on his smartphone.

Angry, they hid behind robes,
Faces unseen, hidden, uncalled out.
Angry at their entitlement,
White, racist, arrogant.
Angry, knowing they were just a part
Of a bigger, uglier whole.

Disgusted, this was their normal,
Walking society's paths,
Believing their false superiority.
Disgusted, upper-class arrogance & bigotry,
Feeling more entitled, undeserved.
Disgusted, holding their children,
Teaching hate instead of love.

A grandmother walked in,
With daughter and granddaughter,
Seven, maybe.
This grandmother, strength personified,
A history facing all phases of prejudice.
The daughter, resentful,
Hardened acceptance,
Knowing this is our world.
The youngest, bright-eyed,
Clueless to the view,
Happy and innocent,
Listening to her Grandmother’s and Mother’s words,
Eyes uncertain, back and forth,
Until the words and the painting settled in,
Turning innocent eyes hollow & dark,
Shifting her spirit.

I broke, walked away,
Stomach churning, heart aching.
What is it like to be judged,
For just existing,
In a world so prejudiced?
I imagine so much like this moment.

I wanted to hug them,
To say it will be okay,
But I’m a white stranger,
And I know it isn’t.

Fixing this goes deeper
Than government’s reach.
Racism taught to infants,
Raised to hate, a cycle unbroken.

I watched George Floyd,
Helpless in the face of it.
Engraved racism, an impossible fight.

Yet, I see many stand,
Speak up, come together,
And in that, I find hope.