I wrote this poem after seeing Black people at the clubs/large gatherings in this climate. I pray everyone stays as far away from this virus/harm's way as they can.
I don't know if I was more upset that we wanted to die
Or because people wouldn't let us live
To understand an end as death by which we are no longer here
Meeting in the dead of night
Whispering faintly
Burning with fatality
How is this any different than when the enslaved ran to meet God under the watchful eye of the enslaver?
How could we not want to die
Why did we want to live
Having to push air through my lungs hurt
Having to meet the sun with my eyes burn
Having to move my legs to stand me up feels like trying to push a mountain up through the surface of a wave
It's painful to live
Is this even efficient?
I think we swallow the death of ourselves down but only so far as to feel the grip of it in our chests
I massage myself right down the middle
I pray that God keeps me breathing ironically while still
Being mad at the bodies that hold our beings
Why the fuck are they so fragile? So susceptible?
I want us to be impenetrable.