Internalizing the turmoil helps me cope.

When they look at me, they look through me, beyond me. I am nothing. I am something. A Struggle to Be, I am me.

I ran to the one safe place that I knew of. Nobody anywhere, silence everywhere. Dove into my mind, swam through my thoughts. Memories arose like the sun at daybreak.

Uplifting, convicting, stimulating, and, uncontrollable. How I wish they abstain from my mind.

Come live with me for a minute. The gateways to my soul, my eyes burn red. Red from all the pain of an accidental ghetto child. A glorified mistake born into a world of hate. A black girl, embedded to praise a certain race.

Forgiving, but never forgetting. That march to SELMA they tried to break, my father’s soul they tried to take, Uncle George’s body in that grave.

Memories come back to me every time I close the portal. Memories of my father, memories of my mother, memories of my people who have hidden, Undercover.

Tossing, turning, Fussin’, and fuming. Moaning, groaning, cussing, and consuming. Engrossing every word thrown at me, absorbing every syllable wrenched at me, manifesting from then to now.

Here to how.

Annihilate the fear of not knowing. Prosperity and hope, a prominent future for myself. Yes I can. Yes we can. Yes he did.

Clairvoyant for a generation of imprudent individuals. Sacrificing myself for their needs. How selfish of me.

Not believing, yet still they fear. A man of no color manufactured by thy own mind.

Swallowing my pride I walk bare feet for a while, because they tell me, it’s part of my ROOTS. My cypher not yet complete, but I woke up from that lucid morbid dream.


This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country


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