To Be Black
i understand they say
oh I feel you they say
but you can’t FEEL what it’s like to be on edge everyday
drowning from the weight on my shoulders
as I carry the bucket of tears that’s been passed down from generations and only manages to get heavier
you DONT
understand what’s it’s like to fear for your brother
your father
and know you’ll have to hold on to that fear for your husband .... and son
looked at as irrational for having that fear
just let it go...
but how can i let it go? when there are prison guards security guards causing me to keep my guard up
my hands up
and still expect for me to keep my head up.
expectations for me to not have certain expectations of people what
does the past have to do with the future ?
well.
isn’t it the past that effects the future ?
that shapes the future ?
if not for your past where will you be in the future.
when all we want is for everyone to forget the past and grow in the future
but how can we grow if roots haven’t been planted ? roots placed from our history watered by the tears of my people.
people who also carried this bucket. that now gathers more weight as I cry out everyday
praying
for the lord to keep my family safe.
forget the past ? but it’s holding me in a cool embrace.
Here do you want to try my bucket out for size. but fair warning before you do. just know that I lied because there is no try.
as in there is no break to put it down even if you do feel like you’re about to drown... in the tears in the lies but as I am black
I’ve been told my only choice is
to rise
so
what does it truly mean to be black ?
being black is being looked at in history class as the teacher presents “slavery is their only history class”
not knowing that slavery only disrupted our history.
being black is working twice as hard for half the recognition so you do the math. four times as hard for the full recognition and maybe not even then.
breaking backs. weeping out. wiping sweat that is dripping down.
but not changing that for anything. because i know
the color of my skin will bring me challenges but being black is facing those challenges and always conquering always rising from
those challenges as more and more are thrown in your face
being black is
teaching your kids
what true strength is.
is fighting to be happy
while they throw out words like crazy, lazy
and trying to brush it all away
the pain the strain
still trying to
gain
from a land that doesn’t truly want you here...
being black is knowing your beautiful
as those same points of beauty are pointed out as flaws from people around you.
being black
is swinging those curves and watering your hair that coils like the earth
and knowing
when you look in the mirror at your face
that on your back you carry the entire race and
nothing you do will ever change
the fight the drive and the courage inside
it takes
to be black.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (5)
Log in to leave a comment.