4 years until the sunrise

You don’t know what colors will have arisen

From this prison

You don’t know you don’t know the vibrancy of what’s alive in me

“No more hide and seek” it cries in me

You don’t know just wait and see

The vacancy

We will fill pools we’re out of your cage, we will spill cool over fires of rage

And sisters and mothers and brothers and others will smother

The sinister pyre of what we’ve discovered

The hate we now know will be brought down

Into ashes and fly up

And when we’re released from the bars rise up

When we cease to be jarred rise up

Feathered and tarred rise up

Our hearts are unmarred, rise up,

There’s a fire to tend.

We’ve risen from this prison before. Rise again.

Blindness

I’m scared.

I’m scared because I look out and I see grey. I see what was prophesied as a new day, a day that didn’t set black and white against each other in fray in fight in fear in flight, a new day a new light. But instead I see dawn rising on a new way, a new way to hate and a new way to say the same things we said yesterday. We rise up in the light’s rays, told we are progressive, leftist, effective, so far from being racist or sexist, blinded by our so-called morals, resting on our supposed laurels, what do you want me to say?

It may not be black against white because we’ve swirled it into grey and hurled it away under the carpet under the rug we grin and we shrug because we believe that we have conceived an idea of justice that is progressive, leftist, effective, the aggrieved, we bemoan our lives with no idea of what has been achieved. We blurred black and white to grey, turned a fight about rights into hypotheticals and trites, essays and words, theories to cite and sound bytes, anything to avoid being contrite, claimed colorblindness in the dawning light.

And we are. We are blind and voiceless, pragmatically choiceless, defending ourselves against nonexistent attacks as abuse rains down on women and blacks, trans and gay, we relax in the belief that everything is grey and everyone has struggles in separate ways, a segregation, but there is no black versus white or the universe versus grey, there’s only a simple evasion of the truth, that there is another way, for life to be fuller — and maybe when dawn rises on the next day, the world will be in color.

[http://atlantablackstar.com/2015/01/26/studies-reveal-called-racially-progressive-white-millennials-different-racist-generations-came/]