“When two elephants are fighting, the grass will suffer.” – The Refugee All Stars
When inequality succumbs evacuation, it becomes Exodus.
When demoralizing becomes dehumanization,
generalizations becomes genocide.
When the touch of Our lovers
become as unfamiliar as shadows
and Our front lawn
becomes the graveyard of peers,
infrastructure becomes inconsistent.
Street signs will start to resemble posters.
Prison cells, are now Our dorm rooms,
served as asentence
teaching Us that metaphor is real.
But we neverget the point
Until What’s said is said
When where Welay Our hearts to slumber
becomes the dwelling place of the unrest,
trading mailboxes for tombstones,
Our deeds become eulogies,
Our cries are only a foreign dialect.
We pray that God still exists.
Fearing our weeping does not fall on deaf ears,
but recollecting that Our kisses taste best
when tears are cascading off Our lips.
When Our wrists
have sewn themselves to the hem of Our mothers spine,
it becomes suicide to abandon Your seamstress.
We know We will not survive here alone.
When wishing We could stand hand and hand
has only left Us with severed palms
falling asleep in our forearms,
and Our oasis in a desert
has been ransacked
by the burn of the unfamiliar,
we are blinded by the mirage of democracy
We have become a closed caption narration
of broken Haitian limbs.
A melancholy juxtaposition of the forgotten.
The mordant truth in witnessing
Weakness in numbers in Syria
The smell of rotting flesh reminds me of foster homes.
How they dangled nooses over Our pride
We have never been privileged enough
to know We might have deserved better
We end up merchandising what’s left of Our bodies
to people who label “priceless” as a blaspheme
falling like Rolling Stones;
an avalanche of the defeminized and emasculated
littered across the world you call home
where they travel over Our bodies
like speed bumps and pot holes.
Their guillotine shaped foot steps
neglect the fact that this
is where We rest Our heads now
When the innocent
are being slaughtered on CNN
The morning you wake up in your safety.
When the burning smiles of
Philippines,Syria, Sierra Leone, and Haiti
are cooked up and served to you
next to your eggs and bacon
We become the recipients of,
"oh my god,
at a coffee table of politics and free will
cluttered with news article that tell Our Story
but fail to speak Our suffering.
The same instant you swallow your empathy
your Instagram posts will not raise Our dead
your Facebook likes wont bring Us home
We are already forgotten.