In the eye of a hurricane
It is quiet
For just a moment.
A yellow sky.
Staring down the barrel of a police officer's gun hoping today won't be the day I die.
In the eye of a hurricane
It is quiet
For just a moment.
A yellow sky.
That today I won't be another black face on tv makin my momma cry.
That my lifeless body will be the backbone of a movement I didn't sign on the dotted line.
That my carcass will not be another thing they can chew and spit out like my skin alone wasn't a crime.
That my sister had already written my eulogy before I stepped out of the door.
That my momma prepared me for a war I didn't know I was fighting for.
In the eye of a hurricane
It is quiet
For just a moment.
A yellow sky.
Sometimes I would rather die. Then hear them spew their lies.
That my skin is to dark for me to write my way out.
That my voice is to deep for them to hear my shouts.
That America doesn't eat me inside out.
That my tears have been enough to water lands during a drought.
When the only jobs that will accept me are in Lin's shows or dancin in videos.
In the eye of a hurricane
It is quiet
For just a moment.
A yellow sky.
That my whole life I have watched my brothers and sisters die.
That staring down the barrel of a gun wasn't enough to make me cry.
That I had to stay woke before I even got any rest.
That seeing an officer is enough to start the beating in my chest
Having to always address that I don't hate them all just a few.
That the bones of my motionless body won't be broken in two.
That my momma doesn't cry when another black boy dies and the officer says it was either him or me I had to choose.
That it isn't enough to mourn peacefully but have to broadcast the pain mourning mothers are going through.
In the eye of a hurricane
It is quiet
For just a moment.
A yellow sky.
That We have feed in to America's empty promises and white lies.
Seeing black boy and girls getting shot on sight.
Being told my skin alone is enough to start a fight.
Trying not to get angry so I don't fight another one of their stereotypes.
Being asked how this is any different from black on black crime.
In the eye of a hurricane
It is quiet
For just a moment.
A yellow sky.
Sometimes I wonder what destruction will lie when this storm dies.
YOU ARE READING
Black Girl in White America.
PoetryWarning! If you suffer from extreme butthurtness this book may not be for you and is not suggested for you to read. I am an outspoken African-American girl who although pretty young has had a lot of racial profiling in the 13 years I have been aliv...
