Sunday, January 18, 2015

A poem a day for 2015 - day 18 - Yes

The men across the street are laughing
At whatever those grown black men
Standing on steps would find funny
Funny I am glad to hear laughter at all
From black men
From black lives
Mattering and smiling
These are precious days
Sacred moments
These hours go by so quickly
We rear our babies to accept
The insanity of the world
Of police
Of the streets
Names are added by the hour to
The mourning lists
I am tired of crying
I am tired of anguish and worry
And fear of other shoes and batons dropping
While I am in the middle of my nap
And would much prefer quiet
There is no sound better right now
Than the sound of men across the street

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