The Four Seasons

Spring

The soft feeling of rose petals against her fingertips.

But no, this is not what she’s feeling against her fingers-

It’s the wetness of a hose that is being blasted into her face.

Squirming on the concrete like an asthmatic fish yearning for water.

Gasping for air because the water is suffocating her.

“I can’t breathe.” She utters out just like Eric Garner

Spring is an illusion,

It looks sweet like a lollipop,

But it’s dangerous like the Holocaust-

Deadly and toxic.

Summer,

The heavy sun glaring down at her.

The thick sweat caressing her skin as it trickles down her body,

But she continues to pick the cotton

As the sticks pricks her flesh

And the sun boiling her blood

Summer, the heat burning down her back

And blistering her skin like the KKK.

She’s not even staring at the sun,

but it’s still blinding as she still tries to pick the cotton.

Just breathe, it’s almost over.

Autumn, sweet autumn,
Like the honey flowing on her taste buds

She lied.

Autumn is a transitioning time

Preparing to endure hardship like the Great Depression

Autumn represents maturity

The time she realize that after 245 years of being alligator bait,

Getting lynched,

And being burned at the stake

There was no hope

The time she realizes that if she goes to the store at night with a hoodie on,

She’ll get shot.

Was it because she was black?

Winter days are cold and harsh;

Like 30 lashes to the back

It kisses her spine as it bruises her.

Blood staining her back like red juice on a carpet

The cold shakes her body

just like blacks feeling the vibration of food being thrown at them,

and being flipped out of their chairs because it isn’t a “Colors Only” restaurant.

Can we have freedom?

Can we have anything we want like the lavishing whites?

Who knows-

We’ll have to wait until the cold and harshness is over.