I thought the words had dried up, but even more spill forth. I have more to say, and yet, all the words couldn’t say the heartbreak I feel now.
I’m not here to represent and say what this meant.
Timeless, it still felt
As though we had never changed.
At one point, it meant that
North was the compass point of the heart
And not a direction of flight.
At one point it meant a dream
And intermingling without discrimination
Or fear of reprisal and death.
It meant that we weren’t called names
Told where to sit and stand
Or delineated from the water fountain.
It meant that churches were safe, and that
Our children would remain alive and together
Within the family unit.
I almost cry, to see this word
Smeared on walls, and bandied
On signs next to portraits of our dead.
I sometimes question why
We can only grasp the illusion without concept of the
Reality, why we regress at the whim of notioned charity?
I cannot swallow the torment,
That freedom brings; I almost feel like
It is a concept of trick and betrayal.
MLK is more than a day, and life
Is more than paying taxes,
Or raising children in the hovels of the inner city.
Where is freedom now? I question as the men
Succumb to criminal intentions and our women
To the ratchetness and embarrassment of stereotype.
Yes, blanket statement, and yet I weep
Because that beautiful and noble dream
Is still so far away, and freedom remains
Just a two syllable word…
Writing 101 - Daily Poem course. Day 5 of 10 Click here for Day 6: Fallacy