“I, Too”

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My prayers ain’t healing the world
My mother,
sister,
father,
brother,
they stopped kneeling every morning
“these prayers are filth washed under the ground” they said.

I’m trying to pray for redemption without choking on my tears.
I’m trying to pray for freedom for the one we have is not enough to turn us into fireflies.

You see my blackness and
I am undeserving of life
it’s all over your face
it’s in your voice
it’s in the way you spit my name out of your mouth.
I don’t want to live holding funerals for my oppressors in my chest while you bury my people in front of me
my chest hurts
my head hurts
I want to breathe

I don’t want to be Eric Garner

I don’t want my father to be Alton Sterling or my neighbour, another Philando Castile

I don’t want my sister, a Sandra Bland

I don’t want my mother to be Diamond Reynolds who had to swallow her screams and tears for fear for being shot beside her already shot boyfriend

I don’t want to be the four year old at the back of the car who had to watch her father bleed to death and her mother immobile

nor the one who saw his father being shot in the chest on the internet

I don’t want to.

I, a son of a black man don’t want to die for being black.

I, a daughter of a black woman don’t want to die for being black.

I, too am hungry for freedom beyond the one we have.

2 thoughts on ““I, Too”

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