Then rage
Rage for my uncles, my brothers, my cousins, my nephews, my son
Rage for the stranger pumping gas, or in the checkout line
Rage for the young man excitedly driving after just getting his license
Rage for the father scared to drive home even a little over the limit after pulling extra hours and it’s late
Rage for the mothers and sisters and aunts who say an extra prayer for the men they love and for themselves because like Breonna our lives are trivialized and criminalized.
I want to rage too
I want to scream too
My rage is considered as me just being an angry black woman
My screams are me just acting out and being dramatic
But yours…your rage helped turn the tides of slavery
Yours was a voice that spoke quietly in bedrooms and and over tea and coffee
Smoothing wrinkled hearts
But it hasn’t been enough
When the murder slipped to side streets
When the hoods became brimmed hats worn by men with badges
When it seemed okay
Because the pain was below the surface
And you could feel some peace
Your aunts and mothers and grandmothers
Said we should be happy now
It’s not that bad
What more do you want?
What do you have to complain about?
While your uncles and daddies and grandpas
Stood watch at the door
Ensuring only a few of even you got thru
And wrote No Coloreds in invisible ink
Ink that stained their hands and yours
And I see you vigorously washing
Trying to make things clean
They’ve never been clean
But don’t stop washing
And still, rage
Rage
Rage for us
Because our pain goes on
Our struggle has been long
And we still stand at the bottom of the rung
Because our lives are a mockery
And whether with or without bars
We still do the time.
Punished for our skin, an indefensible crime
Speak up in the bedroom
Speak up in your churches
Speak up over brunch
Speak up at your clubs
Stand guard when you see one of us with a cop
You may be the only and last witness
I know, imagine the thought
That your turn signal or an air freshener could be a death sentence
Rage for my people
Rage for me
Rage now so one day we may have peace
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
I was moved to write this after a FB friend posted this message. She is an ally, a strong one. Another strong ally FB friend commented how this makes her want to rage and my first thought was, “Then rage”. This is the poem that poured forth from there.
Learn more about me and my writing at BernetteSherman.com.
