There a is wound...
–and the salt over it
and four hundred years suspended over us
and tired hands that keep laying brick for tomorrow
and hymnals passed down to give strength
and blood flowing as naturally from the bodies of men as it does from the bodies of women
and silence that is wise telling us this is wrong –one man's knee over another man's neck
and justice screaming from the window at its home
that its real name is "love"–
and we must heal it.
Speechless
Mr. Floyd on the ground unable to breathe
We must confront the our history of racism in the U.S. We must continue to create language that opposes it. We must continue to ask for justice because justice comes from a place of love.
