I’m tired of watching black people get killed by the police.
I’m tired of turning black pain and grievance into a masterpiece of art.
I’m tired of using literature to turn Black Death into a triumphant ceremony of metaphors and
Figurative techniques.
There’s nothing beautiful in a mother losing her son in the arms of those who vow to protect.
I would call her son a king, glorify his existence in a poem.
But we are human.
All we ask for is to be viewed as human.
But for some reason any place a black person enters makes them a stranger.
As if to say we invaded the space of a white world .
As if to say we invaded the space of a white fantasy
That never existed in the first place.
This is more than just a tragic death.
The effects of white supremacy, colonization and slavery are all being exploded in the form of Black Death.
When Amadou Diallo was shot 41 times by the police it was a message to all Africans in America that Police Brutality is not just a African American fight.
When Emmit Till was lynched and thrown in the Mississippi River
The wombs of Black mothers felt that they were under attack.
When Jacob Blake was shot 7 times in his back
We realized
That we are not fighting a group of people
Rather we are fighting a system.
And how do you deconstruct a system that’s caused centuries of trauma and oppression to not only black people but minorities all over the world.