Because sometimes, in today’s America, there is no such thing as forgiveness
you can’t make me say
I forgive you
while the blood is still wet on
the pavement or
on your badge or
on the American flag
and when that blood dries
my face
will still be wet with
tears and thousands upon thousands of years because
there is no such thing as consolation
you can’t make me pray
for the one caught red-handed while
people pay for his lies and
his alibis watching
black mothers cry
watching
their beautiful black babies die
I will never forgive you
you forfeited that kind of love
the moment you made the conscious decision
to hate me
you can’t make me
you can’t make me paint a smile
on this tortured face any longer
because meekness has tainted the canvas enough already and
my load is far too heavy
to keep carrying your weight and
carrying your guilt to
ease the burden
it’s too late for Kumbaya and
your “sorry” makes my ears bleed
it brings me too much pain
and I won’t hold your hand
because it is stained with
the blood of my brother
And I can’t make you wash your hands