When I tried to write the title for this, I am just staring at a blank cursor. As if words matter. As if anything matters. The only thing that matters right now are Black Lives.
On of my favorite poets, Mark Doty, wrote, "What can words do / but link what we know / to what we don't / and so form a shape?" I am so deep in the "what we don't" that words are sparse and rage is pervasive.
Imma tell you right now this is not going to be my usual manicured, well-crafted, or, frankly, edited post. It is going to be a snap shot of a moment in time when words fail and poetry rises.
"L.A. Prayer" by Francisco X Alarcon was written about the 1992 LA Riots that surrounded the acquittal of the police officers who beat Rodney King causing permanent brain damage*. 1992. The LA Riots happened 28 years ago. 28 years. In 28 years, we have learned nothing. God have Mercy on Minnesota if Derek Chauvin gets acquitted.
L.A. Prayer by Francisco X Alarcon
April 1992
something
was wrong
when buses
didn't come
streets
were
no longer
streets
how easy
hands
became
weapons
blows
gunfire
rupturing
the night
the more
we run
the more
we burn
o god
show us
the way
lead us
spare us
from ever
turning into
walking
matches
amidst
so much
gasoline
"Harlem" by Langston Hughes was published in 1951. It is one of the poems I teach my students every year. We talk about what it means. We talk about what each instance might look like (dry up like a raisin in the sun, stink like rotten meat, etc). And, we talk about what it looks like when dream, undoubtedly, explodes.
Harlem by Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
The next two poems I wrote in 2016. My heart is on fire that they still carry so much meaning today. We. Must. Do. Better. We have to do better. This is cannot be White and Black. It is Everyone vs. Racists. There is no, "I am not racist." White people have benefitted from systemic oppression and White people must look inside of themselves, look at their ingrained prejudice, and face it. White people have to be a part of the solution. The way to do that? Shut up. Don't talk. Listen. Your voice is not the most important. Educate yourself. Engage in conversations. Shut up. Don't talk. Listen. Your voice is STILL not the most important.
Yes, I fully understand the irony of me, a White poet, writing this. I fully understand the irony (and arrogance) of my sharing my poetry alongside some of the greatest poetic minds. I share because White people need to step up in a HUGE way. They need to show their BIPOC (Black Indigenous People of Color) brothers and sisters that they are here in whatever capacity needed.
Step up, White people. People's lives depend on it.
Deferred Dreams by Kathryn Botsford
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 by Kathryn Botsford
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.
*Correction via Jennifer Richardson. Thank you for keeping me honest and accountable.
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