America Looted The Black Body: (RIP George Floyd)

America . . . 

Since our society’s conception

You have looted the Black body.

Take, rape, stripped us bare to our core, while you feast, prosper, stay safe, and ignore.

All the blood you’ve shed, lives left dead, children unfed so that you live free in this claim of inheritance for liberty and justice for all?

The “all” but not the ones that look like me . .. .

What homage of you should I keep or rights to justice can I claim,

Where every day in our country

Countless injustices go unclaimed

And hashtags of new names flood our feeds and my eye ducts.

Rundown, brutally beaten, unconsciously you kill my people.

While we worship on pews, take runs, or dare rest trying to find peace in the privacy of our own homes . . .

When will you leave us alone?

Free of your limitations and control?

Lies deeply crafted, smokescreens carefully placed to make me think it’s me and my race,

While you gather and protect blue powered-white-privilege clenched tight around your neck.

Closer than that cross that hangs in the middle of your chest

That bleeds out red blood

For all God’s children . . .

America . . .

Our streets and hearts are on fire

The people are begging you to listen and understand.

What’s more American than hot dogs, the Fourth of July, and Uncle Sam?

What’s more American than baseball?

A dead Black man

A Dead Black MAN

A DEAD BLACK MAN.

Herein lies the tale of two cities—of two realities.

Unless you choose to help build a new one?

‘Cause our hands are full from cleaning up your mess.

Yet we are still outreppin #blacklivesmatter at the front of protests.

America . . .

The place where our majority cares more about property than people.

Target’s instead of those being targeted?

You never fully shared your wealth or welcomed of us as one of your fellow country members.

Unless we sat with both hands held high and surrendered, docile and nice like a good little -“nig@%*.”

Ahhh . . . 

That word you gave

Yeah . . . that’s been our inheritance

As we were taught to stay silent, bear the lashes, and quietly flinch

While you whipped on . . . 

Tell me what would you do

Face to face with a Goliath who

400 plus years keeps running after you and yours?

How would you fight to breathe again?

Pick up a stone or stick out a cheek . . . .

 

Velynn Brown
Latest posts by Velynn Brown (see all)