A breathing wound imprinted upon God’s creation
Carved into the psyche of my ancestors
You are a brandished whip
Cross-stitched on the backs
The tombs which boldly traversed great oceans
To trade black blood for your profit, entertainment & privilege
You are an
That rolls over & over into every century
To show your diseased face
Like the bloated body & bulged eyes
Of Emmett Till
You are a
THE AFRICAN AMERICAN FAMILY TREE.
Racism you are the knee of Amerikkka which stole the breath from
George Floyd and Breonna Taylor
(YEAH...SAY ALL OF THEIR NAMES).
Your wickedness is in high places and low
It is time.
Way past time to
Break your stronghold
Torch your interruption
That’s your job.
I will no longer hold up your mirror with instructions on dismantling your poisons
And I will not give you what you can go (re)searching for.
I am spirit-weary and soul-tired of the reruns on the endless hashtags of my existence
Your creators must
Do. The. Work. Now.