Black. blood. drips.
on the concrete
Staining generations
That one lone sneaker
loses its foot when
bullets whack domes

For ages we’ve dodged hammers like wack-a-mole
Holy garments that weren’t designed by Kanye
Bloody dread locs that weren’t fabricated by Marc Jacobs
If Heaven was a mile away, our legs would’ve been cut off
If we found the strength to journey, arriving at the pearly gates
On our hands and knees, just to see broken trees
Black bosoms trembling, with black babies hanging from em

Having nightmares wondering
were you one of em?
Having nightmares wondering
were we one of em?
Having nightmares wondering
was i one of em?

 

By Kondwani Fidel

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