From my youth

For  Black History Month I thought I would share something I wrote as a teen, that entails my experiences…
We

So is this really my culture to bear,

just because I am the only black man in the room – does not

make me a shadow.

My voice sounds like a whip

my walk is an echo of every march to unify our Nation

my tears are rivers that lead from captivity to equality 

and when you see me – 

I am still just a wish never dreamed of

a thunderstorm you long to drive through

yet safety is found under black roof tops that shelter you from

the truth.

So I stand in every room 

Bold

Cracking my whip across misled perceptions

because being black is not a conception to be used to be 

less than

it means the scars that have been covered by progress

are not to be forgotten

the sting of once open wounds has not dissipated

only numbed

Within our hearts we relieve the triumph of everyone who

spoke and died for us

So this whip I swing back and pray you feel it snap across your conscious.  That being alive, is being human

that is what we are all struggling to be, 

Human

jdj

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