Black Is…

Black is Beautiful Terminal by Diane ‘Fury’ Wiltshire

They tell me to “treasure your bundle of joy”
As they feast their eyes on my baby boy
They smile and pinch every wrinkle and dimple
Promising that love from this world will be simple
For this smiling cherub I have birthed from my soul
“Give him to us” they say, “protection will be our goal.”

But as he grows nothing is further from the truth
Identifying their disregard will not require a sleuth
To see he ranks lower to them than an animal
And the color of his skin renders him terminal
So my sweet baby boy may not grow to a man
DNA determines his shorter lifespan.

So what should I do? Should I keep him inside?
Shutters closed, curtains drawn, cower down and hide?
Inflict upon him the injustices of a world
Where the white man is king with his hatred unfurled?
Should I erase his smiles and turn his rights to ashes
Just as they did his ancestors with rapes and lashes?

So I resist, I revolt, I insist he is free
And I hold my breath hoping he can come home to me
I cover him with prayer each time he walks out
Asking God to protect him so he will never know about
How much he is hated just because he is black
Dreading the knock on my door… “Ma’am your son is never coming back.”

They tricked me, they lied, this world never loved my son
Why would they? The white man can never be outdone
No black man, no colored, shit! No nigger
Will ever walk this earth as long as their finger can find a trigger
So all that is left is for us to seethe
In the face of yet another black man who can’t breathe.

COVID Convo with Him

I woke up one day and the world had changed
Nothing was normal, everything was rearranged…
Left was right and right was left
My confusion was complete, my heart was bereft.

I tried to understand, I listened to the news
I spoke to others trying to get their views
But nothing made sense, they floundered too
With what to think, feel and what to do.

Things were closing, lives were being lost
Shut ins, ambulances, ventilators, we wondered what would be the cost…
Of something we cannot see and only feel when it’s too late
How do you fight something that’s making you prostrate?

Families are dissected, lovers are torn asunder
Children are losing parents and are left to wonder…
“What happens now, who will love us?
Mommy and Daddy did before this corona virus!”

Some say the world is purging, it’s thinning the herd
I don’t know about you, but I would have preferred…
A gentler, kinder way for it to say
“Your time is up, let’s call it a day.”

My heart hurts, my soul is weary
The anxiety, fear and grief at times overtake me
I cry, I scream, I curse and I yell
I check myself often to see if I could still smell.

Yes, this is a lot, man should not live like this
Fearful of each other and not risking a kiss
Choosing six feet apart or six feet under
Some even deciding they can go on no longer.

But we must find a way, let’s don’t give up now
Let’s look to God and hold Him to his vow…
That He’ll never leave us, not matter how it may look
So, find your peace by opening His book.
You see, He has parted seas, walked on the water
And when they nailed Him to a cross it still didn’t matter
He finds a way to keep coming back to us
Especially amid crisis, death and chaos
He told Noah what to do, He turned water into wine
He healed the sick while they stood in line
He loved the sinner; He gave child to the old
So, I don’t know about you but I’m gonna be bold…
And tell Him I need Him now more than ever
And beg Him to come, stay and forsake me never.

No more posts.