(Ive been working on this one for a long time and still can't get it right).
Once upon a time, I couldn't wait to grow up
I believed in silly things like
if my city was destroyed
someone would come by to save us
& that voting is how we make change
But my commander-in-thief flew over FEMA trailer ghettos watching . . .
Haliburton gorge on the Lower Ninth Ward &
a Black man is in office now
but the dead still pile up in Iraq
Afghanistan, Yemen, Somalia, Libya, Niger, & Chicago.
When I was little I thought that
We help those who have not and
only bad guys go to prison and
law-makers make laws to protect us all
But while DNA sings a song about the New Jim Crow . . .
jobs move overseas
CEO's make billions
gas is three dollars
glaciers melt into oceans
& Alaskan congressmen solve all our problems by building bridges to nowhere
On my parents' lap, they told me stories . . .
"Black folks work together to help one another. "
"At least Black people aren't serial killers!"
"Black people died for education, dignity, and the right to vote."
But I don't know my neighbors' last names now
& the D.C. sniper is chillin' in his cell while
wannabe scholars are citing the difference between Nigger and Niggah
(like strange fruit tastes better in another damn language)
& Black boys aren't making it to election day thanks to our friendly neighborhood policeman
Mom told me other beautiful stories like . . .
"A black king is coming
with the financial, emotional, & spiritual ability
to make you his own.”
(She said I would marry him and live happily ever after in an MCM, split-level ranch.)
But they're gone now - there are no more stories.
Got trapped in the tower of my castle trying to change the furnace filter
& as I dangled my locs out the window waiting for rescue, I wondered . . .
"Why are Black women the fastest-growing population of AIDS victims?"
So much for the law-makers
savers
education
right to vote
kings
and my MCM split-level ranch
So much for Mom and Dad’s fairy tales
once upon some time.
