When They Said Pray
It’s hard to be mad about (history) — his-stories being erased,
When (mystery) — my story has forever been the story misplaced.
Now the memoirs we see being removed,
Are so the future generation won’t be the new sleuths.
They forgot we are the darkness,
And we control the light—
So the things they mask their faces can’t hide.
The jealousy of “Why them?” and “Why not me?”
Just because of my brown skin elasticity.
Taught to bow our heads,
Taught to close our eyes.
They said, “Let us pray.”
When we opened our eyes,
Our story and land—taken away.
When they said pray,
We became their prey.
© Sheltial Green
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