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Poem

Did you think I wrote a month in a minute
Or four hundred years at the beginning of it
Do you think twenty eight days is all I need
To forget where southern fruits bleed
And stain my memory with disdain
My life has no continuation
All its history being marginalized
At the giddy edge of hate
I would not want the beginning here forever
I am a child of change
Your sins have outnumbered mine
I am always seeking a new salvation
It should be for both of us
Because if you are not saved I will sin again
Before I am trampled into dust

This is not personal now
I am too far away from it to feel anger still
It has never been personal
Color has no personality nor face
It is just an absurd marker for race.
But read me carefully
My meaning is gone to a different place
Whose excretion is all this nonsense I taste?
I must confess there are ruts of history
That would reverse my allegory
You knew you had no right to do those things
And the gall of it
You pepreptuate them still before my face
So I am not crippled by a post traumatic situation
It is the current toxin that weakens me
But I hold to resolve like a rope burning the hand
And yet I do not take it personal

I have never been lynched
Except by eyes that had no white
I have never been chased and kill
So making is a luxury
That get pacified men a noble prize
I faced them once
And I ran, but could find refuge
From this country's towering deluge
I am laying down my life for you
Because love has no alternative way
For a soldier to die away from home
For your one day of reckoning
It is easy to continue this point of view
If my history marginalizes you
But you know I have no history now
Nothing is left from the past but me
Waiting for the peace to come
Like a raven cawing

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