fist and soul, where does the rage go?

with fist, foot,
steel, and word,
i want to break
you.

I will
break you.


i want you
to feel
the pain
that colors this skin,
to smell the fear
that curls these hairs.

this pain
which has come to define me,
every
damn
day.

another brother-
gone
another mother
mourns


another murderer
draped in a mantle of hate
and heiled by the confederacy
of dunces and bankrupt souls.


how do we stop the wheel
before we are crushed again?
how do we stop the pain
that twists up a young black face
with hopelessness and despair?


tell that young girl to remember
the songs of our mothers.
tell that little boy to remember
the dance of our fathers.

our story was not conceived in pain.

We can remember
how to be free.

we are all
beings of light-
sparks of awareness-
embers of greatness.

let our embers,
smothered for so long,
gather, and glow,
and
rage so fierce,
and so true.


i would be scared
if i
were you.

One thought on “fist and soul, where does the rage go?

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