Cutting Hair & Other Tales

As they cut her hair,
Did they know their legacy?
Surely not,
Though it’s ingrained in everything
They’ve ever been taught,
Implicit and explicit,
Did they feel the weight of each lock,
As it fell to the floor?
The weight of feet torn from land,
Land torn from feet;
Of shackles and brands;
Of false emancipation;
Of separate but “equal”;
Of jumpin’ Jim Crow;
Of rope;
Of crosses, burning and imposed;
Of color blind racism;
Of a new apartheid;
Of always being an alien
In a land deemed ones own?

No.
Of course they didn’t feel it,
Even if they knew it,
They’ll never have such weight to bare,
The racial contract has made it so,
And on and on the story goes,
Adding another lesson to the tales,
This 3 white boys
Who cut the young black girl’s hair.

Memes

They choose
Not to think,
Because thinking is hard,
They let the memes think, speak for them,
Agreeing, acquiescing, promoting
The said and unsaid thoughts of its creator,
Who needs a mind when there is a meme.

Bred by Love

Come so far,
So far to go,
Then legs kicked out,
Again,
From below,
And anger resurfaces,
Pain still fresh,
From a wound that
Will never heal,
And wound on wound
The gaping hurt feels endless,
What can be done
To stop the hate;
The hate that breeds such hate?
My love might seem shallow,
But a little goes a long way,
It’s potent and contagious,
And pain will not make
My love be curdled
By a bitter hate,
Pain is the trauma
But not the ailment,
Pain reminds one can feel,
That this hate is unnecessary
And is missing what I have,
This love breeds love,
Bred by love,
And swallows hate,
Time and time again.

Playground II

August 16, 2017
Our children play,
A spectral epidermal display
They have no reason to hate,
Play and fun is the objective,
They challenge and boost each other up
They care not of
Color of skin,
country of origin,
Language,
Faith,
Gender
Sexual Orientation

But they will soon learn,
Oh, they will be informed
That this play must have order,
Rules,
Time will teach them
To see difference,
And make labels,
With which to hate one another.
If only one could bottle
These moments
To relieve when older,
Before time and bias
taint our innocence