So, Black Lives Matter...always

So, you may be wondering why I am writing this now. There hasn't been any sort of national newsworthy police shooting recently or irrational use of police force sensationalized by the media. Sadly, though, it is only a matter of time before these events surface again. It always seems to rear its ugly head juuuuuusssssst after folks feel safe in their neighborhoods again, feel like they can trust those around them. However, there are those who never feel safe in their neighborhoods, those who are afraid to live in this country because the color of their skin combined with their gender place a target on their back before they're even born. 

And, yes, the media hypes it up. Yes, the media makes these incidents the top-of-the-hour news and spins them however their bias leans. But, the media also makes these problems visible. And, for those of us privileged enough to have been unaware of everyday racism, these stories shed light on the cracks and chasms that have been forming for decades. Racism didn't end the same day the Civil Rights Movement did. Racism didn't end the same day Black people got to vote. And racism sure as hell didn't end the same day ‘Jim Crow’ died.

So, in light of all that is happening in the 2010s, I wrote two poems. The first poem I'm leaving here, "Deferred Dreams," was written in response to the second poem (which I wrote about a month ago). It integrates lines from Langston Hughes' poem "Harlem" with America's present social and societal problems. The second poem, "Post Amble" came in a fit of twenty minutes when I was supposed to be doing homework. It is a call to White allies to do something. It uses the Preamble of the United States' Constitution to show that we need to become one whole country. If you're already familiar with the Black Lives Matter Movement and/or the total necessity to have these conversations with anyone at any time—not just in the wake of tragedy but before it, then you can probably skip over the first poem and get right on to the second one. Or, read both. I don't know. I don't tell you what to do. I'm not your mother...probably.

Deferred Dreams

My buddy Langston, he told me about 

what happens to a dream when it is deferred. 

And, right now, I just can't sleep.

I close my eyes and see

Black men and women's lives

drying up like raisins in the sun--

juice seeping from them. 

And, that, that is why Black Lives Matter. 

Because senseless violence, perpetuated

by hate, by profiling, by casual racism 

festers like a sore.

Black Lives Matter because they

run and run in an endless cycle of 

self defense, police violence, 

Black retaliation, violence, protests,

violence, death, violence, death, violence.

Death.

White standers by watch, 

They wring their hands unsure of 

whose lives matter, or if they matter at all. 

Their mere observation stinks of rotten meat. 

They participate in that casual racism that prepares

their fellow Americans for slaughter. 

They

        cross the street.

They

        clutch their bag. 

They 

        start sentences with, "I'm not racist, but..."

There is no but. 

There is no reason for these actions.

There is no response to this onslaught of deep-seated

violence and hatred. 

The cries of 

"All Lives Matter" 

         or 

"Blue Lives Matter" 

crust over the experiences of our Black brothers and sisters--

a syrupy sweet concoction meant to pit us versus them.

We are a divided country. 

We see this every day. 

White standers by, pick up the mantle. 

Stop wringing your hands.

Use them to lift up your brothers and sisters

whom—for too long—have sagged under this heavy load. 

Be a part of this movement. 

Stand

         up.

Show 

        up. 

Be upset. 

Be an ally.

Together, we explode.

Our hopes and dreams 

flare and catch, 

spreading a fire that

cannot and will not

be extinguished. 

The next poem is a more direct conversation with those who know there is a problem but do not know what to do about it. It may be enough to just let your friends know that you’re there. It may not. You have to be ready to engage in hard conversations, open those cans of worms, talk about the racial issues that make us uncomfortable. We must build a future worth living in. And right now? This isn't it. 

Post Amble

We the people

are angry. We are sick.

We are tired.

We are raising our voice

in order to form a more perfect union

with our Black brothers and sisters.

Too many of whom have died at

the hands of those who’re meant to

establish justice, who’re meant to insure domestic tranquility.

We are frustrated at those who

provide the common defense

of “All lives matter.”

But, you see, Black lives, they don’t matter more,

But, Black lives matter.

Too many of us have forgotten.

So, before we forget Alton

Before we forget Philando,

Before we remember to forget whoever is

next and next and next,

we must stand with our brothers and sisters to

promote the general welfare in our country.

Now is the time

to provide a space

in which they feel safe,

in which they feel home.

Now is the time

to help them to safety on an

elevated railroad.

  

Now is the time to

shout and protest and rally

from St. Paul to Ferguson.

We must secure their blessings of liberty.

Now is the time

to share this burden

wherever you are.

We, the people, do ordain and establish this

constitution of fairness, of justice,

of being on the right side of history.

Now is the time to band together.

We are a many-colored revolution

that demands equality.

Now is the time to become the

United States of America.