Jane D. | Poetry Vibe Jane D.
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A Letter To Black Brothas...

Views: 126

dear Black Brothas,

 

the sun rose without many of you today due to some form of injustice.  

execution style in public.

bluntness.

they have some ***ing nerve to tell you 

to forgive and forget. 

after they constantly fail to admit

that they're still killing you

in front of the world,

stealing you

from your families,

and instilling in us 

that you my Black Brotha,

aren't worthy.

-to live and breathe this air they claim is theirs. 

on this land they claim is theirs. 

they want you to still ask permission. 

they trippin. 

they mock and chastise

you for selling CD's

and "loosies"

to feed ya families.

Alton Sterling. Eric Garner.

my Black Brothas. 

you try to turn the other cheek and 

Dream of Mountain tops.

and they still hunt you like prey,

because you decided 

to wear a hoodie that day. 

Dr. King. Trayvon Martin. 

my Black Brothas. 

they kill you like animals

and then tell the world 

you were already animals

and expect you not to 

behave like animals, 

or be enraged like animals. 

it's outrageous.

you were done the injustice,

yet YOUR past downfalls 

are what's on the news. 

Mugshots. 

after multiple shots were just pumped into your chest & back.

my Black Brothas. 

Dontre Hamilton. Walter Scott. 

they fill you with holes

and leave the community to 

fill in the blanks.

they hang you on trees,

like leaves, for folks to see.

and then tell you your anger is too loud. 

they advise you to watch in silence. be docile. 

they want you to be tamed and timid. 

they criticize you for being broken, 

while trying to bend and break you.

"hands up, don't shoot"

or sink 

my Black Brothas. 

Mike Brown. Emmett Till. 

they open old wounds and

pick at your scabs

then open fire when 

you open your mouth

my Black Brothas. 

it ain't easy

but we stand beside you.

we see your struggles, 

it is our struggles too.

we see as they try to defeat 

and deny you of your rights 

to what's left 

of this God forsaken country. 

the country we built 

until our hand bled and our backs cracked, 

until our souls cried and our skin rot and dried,

on the poplar trees. 

they didn't just try to kill 

all of the you's,

they tried to kill all of me's. 

they killed our people like sacrificial lambs

and then talked about it in their bedtime stories.

His-story. Her-story. 

Sandra Bland. Rekia Boyd.

my Black Sistas. 

we have to Unite.

it's never been easy for us, 

but we can make it easier on ourselves.

dear, Black Brothas. 

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COMMENTS

 

nosajm@gmail.com says:

Nice work - captures the mood and fustration of our community
 

Woven says:

I felt your earnest plea for us to be we...for justice where there is none, you speak their names, and your words hold a wealth of power. Yes!

poems by this commentor


 

Kingqadardwon' says:

What a display of power! Speak that!! Even someone with no fingers can feel this!
 

2b2b2 says:

Great Work, Eloquently Intimated, thanks for sharing!

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