i am not black
i can count the number of times i have genuinely feared for my life on two hands
i can count the number of times i have genuinely feared for my life because of the color of my skin on one hand
in the shape of a fist
raised,
clenched.
i stand on the ladder built for me by the system that told me i was a model minority
the system that tells them they are only the latter they don’t get a ladder they get a hole
the system that so graciously dug a hole for them to stand in
a hole that, if you look closely,
is six feet deep.
i’ve been told to go back to my land
to speak english
that my food smells bad
but i have never been told that i am not a person deserving of justice in the eyes of those sworn to protect me
i understand that i don’t understand and will never understand but we stand hand in hand because this is our land and these holes make me sick
for four men they let it burn
for four men they hit with hand with baton with car
for four men they sprayed they cuffed they shot
for four men: chauvin. thau. lane. kueng.
for four men: chauvin. thau. lane. kueng.
our foremen said we the people
we said free the people
those four men said good thing
they aren’t people.
i am not black
but i am still people
we the people
hands out, reaching for the stars and the clouds way up high
raised,
clenched.
