My city is in tears. My city is in anguish. You, whom we trust, betrayed us. We tolerate, we talk, we pray. What does continuous death convey? Convinced, we see it in error. Time after time we hit snooze Wake up the next morning in terror. My city is in the fume. My city is on fire trying to burn this dogged injustice. Trying to break the persistent racial walls that overgrew with a seasoned mold. My city is in tears. My city is in rage. The truth takes the stand, no more hiding! Its eye for an eye, its cheek to cheek Shoulder to shoulder, the nation in the fighting. Don’t be silent. Speak up! We need voices to hear us howling. Don’t be still, walk with us, till the heavens hear the storming. My city is in tears. My city is in pain. Infamous eight minutes engraved on the ground Justice and Freedom savagely detained Leaving cries, leaving weeps so profound.
This poem was written last year, a few days after the murder of George Floyd. This poem is included in my chapbook “Inconsiderate Bastard”.
All proceeds from the books go to support Voting Rights and Match for Our Lives campaigns.