There’s a house
There's a lake
There's a field, a plow, and a rake

There are so many animals
They're my friends
There are people laughing
At every day's end

There are people dancing
There are so many songs
And there are so many wonders
I wonder if the world has seen them all

There are secrets and truth
And elders and youths
There are people, just people
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
It's a mess.

There are clocks
Ever reminders
Present no matter what we do to just ignore

There are so many little things
That life has in store
There are jump ropes
There are ties
There are sweets
There are swingsets and rhymes
There are games we play
So many games we play

And none of us know exactly why
There are books and paintings, and screens galore
There are lion and tigers
I hear them roar
There are children growing up

Guess I was one too
There are so many memories
Of you

There are so many memories
Of you

A heart of gold stopped beating
Two shining eyes now at rest
God broke our hearts to prove
That he only takes the best

I am not white, but
my skin is light enough
that I can walk down
these suburban sidewalks
without fearing for my life.

my brother shares my blood,
but he doesn't share my privilege.
his skin is not light enough
for him to avoid prejudice.

growing up, I couldn't see
how we were any different.
to be honest, I still can't.
but now I know that
other people can.

we are apart by two years
and fourteen and a half inches,
and we share only one parent.
but even now, I can't understand
why that makes us so different.

the ironic part of it all is that
people are afraid of him, but
I'm the one with a criminal record.
my brother has never
seen the inside of a cell.

I remember this one time
when we were walking
and this man pulled his truck
over to the side of the road
to ask me if I needed help.
I looked at him and said,

"this is my brother.
if I needed help,
he would be helping me."

he stared at us in disgust
and he drove away
without another word.
I was afraid, but
my brother wasn't.

I couldn't understand
why he didn't react.
now I realize that
he was already used to it.

my brother and I
are adults now.
we've both moved away and
we don't live together.
we aren't so young anymore.
we aren't innocent anymore.

we're still best friends,
and I still can't understand
what makes us so different.
I still see him on the holidays.

I still love my brother
and he still protects me,
the same way he did
when we were kids.

but it hurts me
because I have realized
that even though I love him
more than anything,
I can't protect him.

every time the TV
shows another black man
shot in the streets
in broad daylight,
I shake with fear.

I call my brother
and I'm not religious but
I pray that he answers.
I can't calm down
until I hear his voice.

I can't convince myself
that he's at home safe
when I see so many young men
who don't ever make it home.

when we were kids,
we lost our older brother.
he drank too much and
got into a car one night
and we waited, but he never
pulled into our driveway.

we thought that he had
stayed at a friend's place,
or maybe he had forgotten
to charge his phone.

we never thought that
his car was flipped over
at the bottom of a hill.
we never thought that
our brother was
under a white sheet.
we never thought that
we wouldn't see him again.

I am so afraid that one day,
my phone will ring
and I will find out that
my brother was shot dead
because of his skin.

I am so afraid that one day,
I will lose another sibling and
there will be another funeral
and my life will have
another gap in it.

I am so afraid that my brother
will become yet another statistic.
I am so afraid that my brother
will be stolen from me.

I am afraid that one day,
when my brother has children,
they will grow up facing the
same hatred that has existed
for so many generations.

one day, my brother
might be the next face
shown on the news.

one day, he might have to teach
his children to move slowly
and to put their hands on
the dashboard of their cars.

one day, he might sit at home
and shake with fear
worrying that his child
will be stolen from him.

one day, I might have to look
his daughter or son in their eyes
and tell them that their daddy
isn't going to come home.

I don't know how
I would survive if
my brother or his children
are stolen from me.
I don't know if
I'd even want to survive.

so how is it possible
for you to steal the life
of my brother, or of a child,
and to then walk away
as if nothing happened?

how could you
destroy the lives
of an entire family
and a whole community,
and continue living your life
without any remorse?

how do such hateful people
exist in this world?

and when can I stop fighting
for this world to change?

when will I be able
to pause and take a deep breath?

when will my brother and I
look the same to you?

will we ever stop being afraid?

As December rolls around the corner
seeing everyone slowly putting up their decorations.
She can almost tell that...
that this year's holidays are going to hurt more.
She wishes that she could feel some holiday joy,
but instead
she feels pain and agony.
She wishes she was in hiding during the time of the holidays.
Alas she can't.
She has to deal with the nonstop arguing of who is getting her for what days,
the what are you getting her? No, we're getting her that!
and the worst one possible, bet you wish you were with your other parent?
Said to say,
Not everyone likes the holidays.
Don't assume that everyone has an easy life,
some people just want peace and quiet during this time
because she is dealing with the depression and pain.
It doesn't mean she won't be happy for everyone else...
but on the inside, she is crying and wishing to be in bed.
Crying to know that her childhood turned a child's favorite holiday into a yell off.
She just needs the holidays to be over to go on with her own life again.

Was it yesterday when I met you in my dreams.
Where did you go?Why did you go?
I remember sitting by your side, pretending to hear you.
Now I miss the times I was near you.

Raindrops fall on the ground.
I miss your warm lap on which I slept on when I five.
Arguing about histories, politics, the wrong and the right.
Where did you go?

Can I pretend you didn't go
Can I pretend you didn't leave
Why should I not pretend that my dreams aren't the truth
Why can't I live in this fantasy
All my life?
Why did you go?


If I don't cry
Doesn't mean I don't miss you
I wish you didn't die
But, well ,that isn't....

Goodbye

Tomorrow,
Begins a whole new world.
Gone are the days of rampant tyranny
And years of wondering whether
Tomorrow would be safe.

“He’s won, he’s won”
They cry, the tears tumbling down their faces
Red raw with the cries of freedom
And repentance, because everyone is alive
In this brand new world.

All those who were lost are found.
All those who were corrupted are pure.
He’s healed us all; we’re all anew
And we are safe
In the future that he brings.

“Rejoice, rejoice!”
They say, “For we have been broken
From the prison of tyranny
And we can finally sing our song of freedom,
Like a waving crowd on New Year’s Day

We don’t know what the future could bring,
All we need to do now is sing.
For auld lang syne, my dear
Is all we know of now:
Old long since

We tasted freedom.”

Arranged in neat rows
Colours bursting from the ground
Such a sweet smell
All around us is the sound

Of tittering old ladies,
And boasting old men
Life is wonderful, the sun is bright
Here in the peony garden

I’m angered by the way that I am,
Though, I am not angered at myself,
I hate the man that I see in the mirror,
Though, I do not hate the man who sees that reflection,
I despise the person that I am,
Though, I do not despise the person of whom I’ve become,
I fault the illness that controls my mind,
Though, I do not fault my mind for being sick,
I’ll always hold this grudge against you for making me this way,
So why—given all of this pain and hate—do I still hope you’ll love me someday?

Brendon S. Sawyer
2020