πŸ’”

I want to write
About pretty things
About sunsets and twilight
And love felt at the roots of your heart

But roots haunt my mind lately; deep
roots down to the corrupt marrow
the only heart, the heart of my homeland
hemorrhaging and screaming
begging for help

I saw a video today
Of a woman; she did not look like me
We shared no dna or name
She was my Sister

They dragged her down to the floor
At the processing booth; in the jailhouse
three men who are supposed to protect her
dragged her down by the face and forhead

they pinned her against the counter, wrenching her arms
she was my sister and she was screaming, NO!
she was my mother and my daughter
she was a she; a child of the same universe
molecules of the same star dust in her veins
our blood was the same
and she screamed, wide eyed for help

They, processed her like livestcock
At a slaughterhouse

We don’t have enough tears to wash away the blood that sits at our doorstep.
My heart knows only pain, right now.
I can’t stop looking at my hands
and how easily my skin is stained by blood

And the truly heart breaking part of all of this,
Is when you pictured the woman I am speaking of, you already knew she was black
And nowhere; until now, have I said so.

About Eric

Writer/Plumber/Poet/Father/Gentleman/Romantic
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5 Responses to πŸ’”

  1. You are so right Eric and I feel so helpless!

  2. Rita says:

    As I said, My Brother, this is powerful ❀️

  3. So powerful, my friend. You put to words the thoughts, the feelings many of us are grappling with.

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