Weaponized Cries

This is not for Tyre, George, or Breonna, this is for you and me. Children of much lesser gods than those of the people who once were held as slaves.  Let’s call us non-Black, for that get’s closer to to the fact; no one is white.

It is unnerving as it should be. Utterly debilitating and anything that could be uttered is an insult to the memory of all those lost and and the blood of all those in line.

The mind breaks and that is their intention. To break each an every one to the point where there is no up or down. When there is no up or down there is no ground to return to dust to.

Moments like these, now almost every day, I would prefer my entire existence to be a gesture of apology. When my eyes meet yours, I wish you could know how sorry I am that the world is like this.

I would like you to be able to see that I have tried, not to absolve me, but so you  know some of us did it differently. Not that that’s been enough to turn the tide, but there are some out here who want all of us to survive.