freedom and truth,
destinations without directions.
Is it my fault?
for the ‘flaws’ in my heritage…
there was no chance.
hauled away on a ship.
relatives, a thing of the past.
a price given on one’s own head.
given a job, with no reward.
stripped away from prestige,
broken down to one’s weakened knees.
is that why
when it rains,
my mother’s own colored knees
start to ripen with pain.
the crying out of my own descendants.
many believe just because of the
freedom was given,
yet i diverge.
with every footstep i take,
i hear the same words that Mammy would’ve.
the words that everyone ignores.
yet, i cannot - will NOT.
going to my next class,
i will hear, ‘n*****’.
sitting in any history class,
i will feel awkward.
when the subject of the KKK arrives.
and someone says their family is affiliated.
you see, no matter where I go
I will be labeled as a precedent.
no matter, if my hair is straight
or if it’s coiled to my head.
labeled THE minority,
by people who declare
their own superiority.
because of this,
i am paralyzed.