Brown Blood

We bleed liberation,

In the form of tear stained eyes and salted cheeks.

Slaves of mastery over our lives, this is what we seek,

The pool of blood from our ancestors tie us to our own defeat.

Chains have only changed color,

Ships traded for signatures,

Whips exchanged for those with wheels,

Attempting to drive us far from our oppression,

But we drag it behind us; like cans from a fresh marriage,

Because the three-fold cord of money, power, and fame will always have a hold on us.

The struggle of war rules our existence,

We live in a perpetual state of PTSD,

Battlefields of litter filled streets, abandoned building and dilapidated houses.

Gunshot wounds and shackles,

Accompanied by sirens and the flash painting of blue and red on scared faces.

Brown bodies get no justice in these places.

But we still bleed.

We know you don’t see our humanity.

So, we scream it!

Crying out in the crowds for your acknowledgement.

Just a taste of freedom from the conditions that have taken up residence in our space.