Police brutality and the war on black men forces poetry out of my soul. It also forces hard conversations with the people we love.
I had to have
the conversation
with the man I love
I told him to just
Lay
Just lay on the ground
When they come around
As I spoke I felt that rope
Tied around my throat
And it hurt.
I told him to do whatever
they say
I told him to pray
While he lay
As I choked
on tears and pride
Two black men murdered 2 nights in a row in July
There’s no other option
The man I love
Has
Got
To
Survive
I had to have
the conversation
I felt him lose his patience
as fear consumed me
And there was nothing he could do about it
I felt him lose his power
While murderous thoughts devoured
my heart and my soul and my bones
Engulfed in flames
Set ablaze by the videos
On my social media page
I had to have
the conversation
“I’m gonna be alright” he said
And he held me tight
While I kissed his forehead
Then we said goodnight.
Each minute that passed while he drove home felt more like an hour
I lost my patience.
At least we had the conversation
But then I thought about
His dark skin
His boldness
His unyielding power
His smart mouth
His charisma
And his confidence
Yall know how a man is
He
Has
Got
To
Survive
There’s no other option.