12:00 ,  March 19, 2014

Today is my birthday.

And even though the feeling of one more year was liberating, I couldn’t help but notice

That where, I come from, another year is as rare as blood diamonds in rich communities.

I couldn’t help but notice,that church bells drown out sirens

And that though I’m alive today, I could meet my maker tomorrow.

So I asked myself,

Who will remember me?

Who will remember us?

The black boys that so effortlessly blend in with the shadows of a broken people, living in a broken present

The ones that would rather they could be called Malcolm X than Koby Bryant

The ones whose dreams are so much larger than the cramped, one floor apartment

That only a harsh reality could provide

The ones who sit at their laptops on a black night, comforted only by the moonlight shining through the curtains

Trying to find words for the wordless,

To express the pain that we have endured.

To express the anger that we keep bottled inside cans we discard onto the street, hoping someone will open it up and hear our pleas for someone to listen.

To express the sadness to know, that all that some people see in you is

“another thug”

To express the hope that we can become so much more than what people see in us.

Today is my birthday.

And I wonder what I will become.