the sidewalk was cracked
the little plants in between to distract
the broken glass and casings
from yesterday's chasing.
i walk slowly through the day
the sky above me gray
with the rain pouring down
but the sun still shining around.
in front of me, a woman beats
her fists into the pavement of the streets
with bloodied nails
and heartbreaking wails.
but this is america so i
look at her for a moment and sigh
before continuing my walk
not wanting to stare and gawk.
turns out her son is six feet
under, and he died on that solid concrete
the dirty footprints and jagged lines
a reminder, she whispers: this is my fault, mine.
i continue and look around
and see a boy drop his hoodie on the ground
i find it weird in this weather but
this is america so i walk away, mouth shut.
turns out he was scared
of the officers that stared
at him with suspicion so he thought:
better safe than sorry, my life's all i got.
a man yells and pounds his fists
into a store's glass so hard they twist
but i move towards the road and away
this is America anyway.
turns out he was watching the acquittal
of Jeronimo Yanez, his hope becoming little
as anger coursed through his veins
and his heart filled with pain.
i round the corner to see
a fire burning with glee
rioters surrounding it with fists
raised and hearts angry, clearly ready to resist.
if i haven't said it before,
i will say it once more.
this is america so
i ignore my fellow brothers and sisters and go.
turns out they were resisting
against everything because just existing
was exhausting, petrifying, heartbreaking
and they had enough, they were ready for the taking.
they screamed through megaphones and cupped hands
cursing and yelling that they'd be damned
to be silenced anymore.
they were going to draw the curtains and open the door
to the future, and they swore
standing there, on top of cars that had broken
glass and casings around it that they have spoken.
they have risen and awoken,
through their megaphones, they scream
the future is ours, the future is mine,
my fellow brothers and sisters,
it's time to rise and shine.
YOU ARE READING
The Mind of a Black Girl
Poetry"The black girl who will embody you all through my small voice that will soon become powerful." ~~~ i have a lot to say and it's on these pages.
