corona 21.

corona 21.

I have never lived in a black body
I have never pulled a splinter from my black son’s foot
I have never breast fed a black daughter
I have never feared for my daughter going to school
I have never schooled my son on how to speak to the police
I have never told my son how to hold his head when he’s sitting alone in his car
I have never been spat on for the color of my skin
I have never been yelled at about the color of my skin
I have never been arrested for just existing in a black body


my chest clenches and opens clenches and opens in grief
I hear their voices all loud frightened angry sad shouting
I can’t breathe
children risking the pandemic to be heard and getting tear gassed at the foot of the nation’s hearth


this is all I can do witness and remember
witness and remember