I wrote this poem two years after the death of Micheal Brown. With the mass media’s coverage of the Black Lives Matter movement and the unrest happening in Ferguson, Missouri, I felt lost. I started to forget why we were fighting in the first place. All I saw were my people looting and destroying mom and pop stores, and I thought to myself “What are we fighting for?”, “Why are we so angry”. I was angry. I was hurt. This poem serves as a reminder to why we are fighting, and who we are fighting for.
The famous black hoodie that blurred the line
You had no idea you were going to die
You were young and in your prime
Your mother didn’t even say goodbye
I hope one day he sees
The hollow holes he put in your chest
We are fighting our best
We want justice, please!
We will not stay oppressed
Tray, you can now rest.
They showed us your photo,
But there was no light in your eyes
They let your casket sink low
It is time, we must rise
We must prevail
This is a revolution
We must pull through
We will not fail
We will not stop until we have a solution
Bland, we have not forgotten you
They stole your breath,when you told them you couldn’t breathe
We watched your death
They buried you underneath,
The other slain black men
We knew they lied
They thought we would soon forget
Time and time again
We watched as your children cried
Garner, we are not finished yet.
