These are not new lines to consider,
to measure, to find the will to cross
No. These are ancient fissures
snaking through yet
unredeemed landscapes
contained in the small minds
of self proclaimed ‘great’ men
and societies of greater delusion
Now we will move these mountains!
March across the forbidden morass
of bogey men with our hearts
as stubborn and solid and true
as a brick thrown through the window
of America’s Museum of Gross Inequities.
When the glass shatters we’ll crawl through
together on hands and knees
over our past to amend
what has been forsaken
Waking up won’t be easy…with keen eyes,
on more than mere tangential bloodlines
We will bear witness, humbly seeking
every denied connection to our ancestors
joining new generations dancing
in the overhead glare of fluorescent
shadows, disapproving stares
celebrating life in suburban
supermarkets to city streets
ebullient innocence,
commanding smartphones
demanding life be a witness
to their freedom and foibles
sporting beautiful bantu knots
and name brand kicks
agile self-confidence,
fluid in a №24 jersey
whooshing by with a forward pass
a loaf of Wonderbread sails by
not quite tethered to the past, still
unsullied by the future
Isn’t this carefree invincibility
the epitome of childhood?
a rite of passage imperiled
only by pimples and hormones
a parent’s sacrifice is more
than a child can yet grasp
for this equal right
to pass unharassed
is not common enough for some
For these material gestures
alone will not erase or quell
the arc of oppression
curving, winding its way
through humanity’s veins and out again
like a sleeper cell of terrorists
one day these innocent children will
face the hateful tyrant
brush by it on the subway
catch the wrong city bus
turn the corner too soon or too late
nudge the wrong wingtips
maybe even push without apology
Then BAM! the blood memory
of what went underground will awaken
ethereal flashbacks of indescribable loss
suffering and struggle will make them weep
for injustices they have not earned
nor brought upon themselves
an indecent evil as yet hardly answered for
and they will not understand it
until they crash headlong i
nto the line between
the shameful past
and the present dissolved
by the shock of a taser
the hollow point of a bullet
the suffocating boot
of masqueraders who patrol
these invisible boundaries
contrived by indecent
dishonorable men
sworn to protect and serve
their noble mission hijacked by hate
trading equanimity and justice
for subjugation and murder.
This is the line some believe civilized society
cannot cross ________________until it does
over and over again without impunity
Who dares to lay this shameful tragedy upon
a child’s shoulders like a woolen cloak musty
with time and tears — who wishes
to mar youth with the truth of a shameful past?
Soon enough, maybe tomorrow
they will wonder for a shadow of an instant
why a mournful sigh heaves in their chest
while looking into their phone’s camera eye
for another sweet selfie
a soul memory will escape into the ether
while they remain oblivious
to young Martin’s ghostly impression
praying over their shoulders
He too looks into the lens
of their tomorrow
worried his death did nothing
to ease their burden
the animated shutter
clicks and whirs
the carefree poses relax,
wariness resumes
ancient wisdom slides into place
the age old key is in the lock
beware something’s coming
One day, they will crash into it- full stop
At first they will not recognize the wall
the fence, the ditch, the hanging tree
because all things shift their shape
over time — hate won’t look the same,
but it will be equally tempered
by time and hubris
because the shapeshifters who once moved
like viscous clouds beneath bed sheets
down southern dirt roads
are still hiding in the bloodlines
of their grandchildren’s children
behind money and corporate corner offices
with dizzying views down to the avenues
where people float by as specks of dust
they lunch with politicians
pressing flesh and salving egos
buying seats for unsympathetic judges
on historically hardened benches
filling prisons with our fathers,
our brothers and even our mothers
These lines we can no longer ignore
they must be obliterated
lest they erase
the soul of humanity entirely.
©sk 2021
I dedicate this poem in hope and celebration to the memory of our esteemed civil rights leader, Martin Luther King Jr.
image credit: Sam Poullain