Somewhere in all the movement
I set down the megaphone,
Still hearing the echo of my own voice
As it traveled
North, East, South, West,
On to, up and down Main street;
Social leaders don’t choose
the precise moment
When they thus become
Leaders,
“Accidental” leadership
–The moment chooses them;
Nor do they choose
Exactly when
their time eclipses;
Social injustice
Is a warfare,
Literal,
and of daily heartbreak;
The activist by Call
Resides on this ground zero,
Tending, carrying, soothing and rallying,
In rotation
With other ethical co-conspirators,
A Rotation
To protect the already traumatized
From too
Too much;
Gradually, I took my leave
When the marches thinned,
And logistics began
to overshadow the purpose;
The march marches on
In different capacities,
As it has always,
My prayer is that our call
And the response
Forever is remembered,
re-called,
And flesh tones
Like and unlike mine
find purpose, place, and responsibility still
In the movement
Of heart,
Of calling out injustice
invoking community love,
And keeping the justice system
In check
With a social justice
Call
And response;
A leader still,
My call
Is a labor of love,
unending
A different hat I will wear for now,
As I heal and grow,
An injustice-weary heart.
Tag: justice
What is Justice?
[IMAGE: Mural in Minneapolis by Xena Goldman, Cadex Herrera, Greta McLain, Niko Alexander, and Pablo Hernandez]
What is justice,
When the only proof of a lynching is the very image of it happening,
Again and again?
What is justice when this is the exception?
This is a sick feeling of knowing,
Nothing will bring back
The life battled for,
Too little too late,
What is justice when the very judgement brings with it a greater sense of fear for those of deeper pigmentation?
For vigilante retribution? Revenge?
Why does the hammer of judgement only
Bring to mind more images
More worries
of breathless lungs,
bodies burning,
Of bodies swinging;
That strange fruit
Our people know too well?
May our prayers of peace,
Of this first as a trend
Be met with a change,
A shift,
Be met with true justice,
–Let [it] “roll down like waters
and righteousness like a mighty stream”
Justice by Homicide
I will not look upon
A young boy being slain,
Further trauma is not in the healing,
This
Is not working.
The mission changes, but the purpose never did,
To cage, enslave, end black and brown bodies,
This justice was never just,
It was always just
law and order
–Property protection at any cost,
We will blame the victim,
Will interrogate their life,
Ignoring the bottom line,
Innocent until proven guilty,
And justice is not decided by the police.
A knee,
a choke hold
a tazer-a pistol,
TOmato- tomAto,
At the end of the day
Another dark one dead,
Justice by Homicide,
Another case is at end.
Sweet Land of Liberty
My country tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of hate I sing,
Of fascism and violence,
White supremacy born,
This is what you’ve always shown,
Only victims see,
Your ideals are ideas,
your system, systemic
racism,
oh sweet land
my criticizicism biting
my love enduring
for what you have yet to be,
for what I believe remains possible,
sweet land of liberty
Called to Move
With so much on my mind
With so much on the world
It’s no wonder I cannot sleep,
I toss and turn,
With no specific thought,
Just a sense of worry,
For the times,
For the unsettled,
For the pained,
My ministerial heart,
Aches,
For past and present pains,
For systemic wrongs,
I long to change,
I am called to move,
Even in the night,
When tired eyes should close,
Should rest,
I am called to move,
Mobilized by my heart,
Pumping blood of my ancestors through my veins,
In and through brown limbs,
I am moved for change,
To actualize the humanity
I have seen in small doses,
On a grander scale,
To see my brothers and sisters with air filled lungs,
Chanting their message of change into being,
We move,
Not just legs,
But ideas,
Beliefs,
Of an equalized existence
Not pierced by the hate and apathy we have seen,
We move,
We move,
We move.
The Justice Salve
Black and brown bodies
Have been desecrated,
Sacred structures
Have been desecrated,
Democracy
Has been desecrated,
By hungry hands,
Seizing power,
From lives, minds, hearts,
It is taken,
To feed a machine,
That converts likes
Into hateful rhetoric,
That converts hateful rhetoric
Into costed lives,
We stand on stolen ground,
Watered with the blood and tears
Of ancestors,
Who could see but not fully know
The scope of all,
Of what really was,
Or was to come,
We stand because our forebears fought
For the right to stand shoulder to shoulder,
To link hands,
In community of giddy multitude,
That makes the powerful quake,
We stand because
We have been desecrated,
And justice
Is the only salve
For these wounds.
She of Letters 