For him

What were you wearing
when this happened to you? 
Where were you going? 
You know it ain’t safe
to walk around here 
at night. 
Did you provoke him? 
Give him reason to believe
that you wanted what you got. 
Did you speak
when you should have
remained silent? 
Give him too much lip? 
Were you walking too fast? 
Not fast enough? 
If you had only slowed down
to allow him to catch up, 
the conversation 
could have been had. 
But now, 
the situation is out of control. 
What were you wearing? 
And did you put it on
knowing that people
who dress like that
get treated like this? 
And yet, 
you still put it on. 
So you accepted the risk
of what was to come. 
You can’t hold him
responsible for what he’s done. 
We do not put heroes in jail. 
If they didn’t want to get shot, 
they shouldn’t have been born
Black and male. 
You can’t wear a dark hoodie
on a dark night
and have dark skin. 
Let’s lay fault 
at the victim’s feet
as we lay him to rest. 
Being born. 
Listed as the cause of death. 

© 12 June 2017

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#GloPoWriMo 15/30: Dance

She dances with the wind. 
She is connection. 
Connecting us. 
Equal parts global, 
and local. 
Maybe God is in the ocean. 
Maybe God is the ocean, 
A trinity turned quartet. 
She will speak,  
if you listen. 
She will love,  
without conditions. 
She doesn’t charge the surfer
for the wave. 
Just happy he got his surfs up. 
She caresses the shoreline, 
Melodic and sweet.
Millions of miles. 
Smiling on those
who visit. 
Loving those
who need it. 
Keeping the
secrets of the ocean talkers
She dances. 
She is the tide.

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#GloPoWriMo 14/30: Come

Come as you are. 
As long as you come like us. 
Be like us
if you want 
to be with us. 
Monopoly on Jesus. 
This is the way. 
Say as we say. 
Do as we do. 
Be whoever
you desire to be. 
Just don’t
be you. 
The gatekeepers
of goodness. 
Only the great
can come in. 
Be my judge. 
Or be my friend. 
But you can’t be both.

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#GloPoWriMo 11/30: Improved

If faith in humanity
could be single handedly
restored, 
it would be
because of you. 
A breath of fresh air. 
Full bodied,
green leafy trees
in the Springtime. 
You are
the perfect day
in all seasons. 
You are
Miss Bliss
even when I don’t need to be
saved by the bell. 
I breathe better. 
I am better
because you exist.

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#GloPoWriMo 10/30: The Fruit

He stares at me
intently. 
Studying my being. 
He knows
something is different. 
That I’m not like them.
That I’m not like him. 
He hears in my accent
that this 
is not my home.
To be surrounded
but be alone. 
Told that
I’m not African
enough. 
Not Black
enough. 
If it’s us versus them, 
I was sure
that I was us.
But I’m not. 
Not enough
for the exclusive. 
Our ancestors
could have been neighbors, 
and this ain’t neighborly. 
I am not the enemy. 
We
have much more in common.
Perhaps our differences
aren’t that different. 
The same tree 
planted elsewhere. 
We are 
similar fruit.

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