Hate, I have to admit I feel numb to it
But can’t help but think we too will soon succumb to it.
Prayers provide strength in weak moments.
Moments when shades from the moon
Light the shadows, leaving room for those hoping,
Hoping to see a neutral color
In between lines of protests
For justice and equality.
Tears drawn down for young men
Slain on cold streets,
In the night we can imagine what
These men would testify, if only they could still breath, but
When you hear one of your own ask If God loves us it’s hard not to get choked up.
Although this question I’ll never ask
We still feel as if we carry the burdens of the past.
Not to omit the fact that we face the barrel at the hands of our own,
Still this can never justify the hate
Of one for his or her skin tone.
Tears of pain
Saddened, tired, drained
Some even resort to washing away their beauty,
What they see as washing away their pain
Ignorant to the fact that this is our beauty, our strength.
We won’t be the siloute forever
Eventually the shadows will come out
The corner, lighting candles to burn
As symbols of peace while
Piecing together the shattered lines waiting for human lives, not black and white.