When will the inhumanity end? When will social justice really begin? It’s not just color, it’s fear, greed, ignorance and more…
Each week The Sunday Whirl invites writers to write a poem or short prose using some or all of the “wordle’s” 12 words. This week it is:
I’ve heard that sweet talk jive about
a thousand points of light
a thousand times
just like you.
But nobody’s lighting no lights,
and the only fires that burn
are our souls burning
and those on the streets.
Sweet talk? Sweat talks.
Years of our sweat talking.
Whipped backs of toil.
Your talk snags us.
You hear me?
No, you don’t.
Let me say it again,
Like those thousand points of light,
Your talk snags us.
Look us in the eye.
I don’t want your Commissions,
your Investigations, your Justice
Departments, your high words of “We’ll look into it”.
Look at our eyes.
You can panic.
You can continue to fight us.
Or you can do what’s right.
It’s not Ferguson.
There are ten thousand thousand Fergusons.
It’s about not having a thousand points of entry,
a thousand jobs, a thousand decent homes,
a thousand wholesome meals,
It’s about a thousand jail cells waiting for us,
a thousand Blacks and Latinos languishing in prisons,
a thousand times of hearing we can’t help you,
a thousand doors closing,
a thousand shots fired as we walk our neighborhoods,
a thousand times being rousted out of a car,
a thousand times being rousted on our own streets,
a thousand times of being turned down for work,
a thousand times flipping burgers for $8.00 an hour, if we’re even that lucky,
a thousand times of not being able to rent that apartment,
buy that house, live in that neighborhood,
even walk in that neighborhood,
a thousand times of being called a derogatory name,
a thousand looks of disdain, and for what,
a thousand tastes of bile in our throats,
swallowing, trying not to wallow,
a thousand times of wanting to be somebody,
of breaking free,
wanting to see my brothers and sisters
break out, too.
Time to perform.
Make the choices.
Make it right.
We are here.
Or will you do
like you always do,
shaking the bushes,
and talk about
those bullshit fucking thousand points of light.