We Who Believe in Freedom Cannot Rest - Poems that Resist Police Brutality & Demand Racial Justice
Until the killing of Black men, Black mothers' sons, becomes as important to the rest of the country as the killing of a white mother's son -- we who believe in freedom cannot rest.
- Ella Baker
Even as our hearts break in rage and anguish over the murder of Black and brown people throughout the land by police who are not held accountable, here at Split This Rock we are heartened by the powerful actions in the streets and the visionary leadership of mostly young people of color in this growing movement for justice.
We are also moved by the poets, who continue to speak out, and especially by BlackPoetsSpeakOut.
In solidarity, Split This Rock offers our blog as a Virtual Open Mic, open to all who respond to our call for Poems that Resist Police Brutality and Demand Racial Justice. The poems below were submitted in response to that call.
Please note poems with complex formatting have been posted as jpegs, as this blog has a limited capacity for properly displaying these poems. We apologize if these poems are not accessible to you.
For more information or questions, feel free to email us at info@splitthisrock.org.
If you are moved by any of the poems below, please contact the Department of Justice and your local representatives to demand for police accountability. Visit Ferguson Action Demands for more information.
****
A MOTHER'S FEAR
by Karla Cordero
Before the sun laid its hands across
cornfields, before men & straw hats picked cabbage
my mother's womb rivered me into this world
screaming thunder.
I was born with a back made of bricks,
a mouth full of tumbleweed & desert cactus.
skin so tan
it wrapped around my bones like sweet caramel
Mother prayed for me
plucked rosary beads for fourteen hours.
Afraid of this world
where little girls with broken English
forget how to speak
their way back to their mother's dinner table.
Where colors
brown & blood sound too familiar at funeral
This world waiting
for baptism to break the flames.
Mother still prays to every moon, every ocean
to swallow my body.
Asking Noah's flood to shatter my lungs
hoping chaos
never knocks at my door
begging for a glass of water.
****
SET US FREE
by Amy Grace Lam
I came into the world to bear witness to the suffering of humanity.
And there is great suffering in the world.
And yes, the world has been unjust to the just.
But I have learned that with time EVERYthing changes.
Just as the seasons and the years and decades change.
So do our tides.
And we progress. And evolve. And shift.
Not in one fell swoop.
But on the backs of the change in each one of our hearts.
Change is in each one of us. In the small moments when we say:
Yes, I see you. Yes, you do exist.
We do not need to me MLK Jr., Malcolm X, or even JFK.
Nor Dolores Huertas, Yuri Kochiyama, nor Grace Lee Boggs
said that evolution is the revolution
and change is in each one of us.
And these great moments, they start with the moment
of one small shift in you that makes a shift in me
that ignites a flame in her that shifts the entire world.
These shifts start with moments we have made together.
Moments which bring our souls together.
What are moments made of?
A smile to a neighbor.
A dollar to a stranger.
An afternoon conversation at the corner store bodega.
And with each touch between you and me,
a moment does grow bigger, don't you see?
So what are moments made of?
A caring shoulder to cry on. A witness to my pain.
The gluten-free carob chip cookies you baked.
And yes, that wonderful 3-mile walk around the lake.
That's what moments are made of.
We reach and we heal.
We meet and we feel.
What are moments made of?
Our tries, and our let's. Our hearts, hopes, our bests.
Yes, moments are made on the backs of love.
A love for you and love for me.
Of course, it is the love for our children that sets us free.
For we are the moment and the moment is we.
BUT wait, what the moment really asks is for me to me me.
And in our struggle to set the whole wide world free,
we find that the answer from the world is...
First, child,
you must set yourself,
free.
****
You can get killed
just for living in your American skin*
by Susan Roche
But I can't.
Michael Eric Victor
and Yvette
you did
Larry Jordan Johnnie
and Wendell
you did
Miriam McKenzie Andy
and Tamir
you did
Follow
follow
follow this trail of
stilled American
blood
You were killed
standing with your
hands by your side
asking for help
after your car crashed
riding your bike
fleeing from robbers
opening your front
door
running to your
mother
Forty-one
Eleven
One hundred and
thirty-seven
times
a body can hold so
many bullets
but mine does not
have to
they chased tackled
choked and tasered you
they rammed in to
you with their car
they shot you in the
back of the head
but not me
because I am
invisible
invisible alive and
abashed
by the extra seconds
by the
life-preserving seconds
by the benefit of
the doubt they offer me
by the benefit of
the doubt they confer upon me
without even knowing
that they do
From inside my
invisible American skin
I track the spoor of
your spattered blood
searching
searching
searching for the
seconds before the firing of bullets
before the firing of
bullets
how is safe passage
conferred?
I search for sign
*Bruce
Springsteen, lyrics to "41 Shots," 1999, to honor Amadou Diallo,
killed by police.
by Simone Roberts
****
A PLEDGE TO GROWN UPS
by Netfa Freeman
"My name is _______ and we welcome you here today.
We hope you all listen because we have something to say.
I am the youth, here with others my age.
We're the caretakers for tomorrow. So clear off the stage.
With respect for the old, we'll bring in the new.
We'll learn all we can and teach a bit too.
What we want for the future are not selfish things.
We want the world peace that justice brings.
We are the youth who will make the world better.
We'll do it with truth, right down to the letter.
From boys to men and from girls to women,
All things must change. This is a given.
What we want grown-ups to know,
is that we are not afraid to rise.
Because we know we can do it,
with you on our side."
****
State of the Nation
by Ifetayo Al-Din
there is
blood on the leaves
we are being deceived
perceiving this as reality
while we're seen as fruit
hanging on a forbidden tree
i'm questioning the story of christianity
because the garden of eden has a stench of curiosity
commonly seen in the culture of white supremacy
pay attention
this wasn't innovation
it was a mockery of ma'at's principles
better yet, a robbery
rewriting and renaming our culture
this was the beginning of black casualties
& now we casually follow the
blinded by the material aspects in society
woe is me
i'm just voicing this tragedy
i'm not the voice of this tragedy
we have a choice but it's tragic how we can't see
they ask if i'm a revolutionary
no, i'm just black
& i see evolution as the only solution in this situation
annihilation of this crabs in a bucket system
i'm sure they're laughing like
"everybody got it but them"
competing with our own brethren
like we aren't coming out the womb fighting a war for our lives already
our mindsets are premature
uplifting has became unfamiliar
like the family
so i pray to god that we aren't too far gone
trying to stay optimistic
but it's not my strong suit
so i pray to god that he keeps me strong
as pigs are paid to plaster my people's blood on concrete
and my people are longing to be apart of the black elite
they need their seat next to the oppressors
forgetting about the rest of us
but me
i simply want freedom
own my own everything
bring back the black wall street
create a new society
i'm tired of these "solutions" mirroring pacification
bus boycotts ended
but we were still barely allowed an education
i'm a broken record of laurence fishburne
at the end of a spike lee joint
yelling wake up
i just hope somebody can hear me
over the gunshots that are killing radio raheems
how can anybody love this country
have a conscience
& not hate themselves
but i guess that idea is obsolete
they want us to hate ourselves
saying 'be yourself'
but preaching assimilation
welcome to our great nation
continually desisting the blacks of each generation
while widening the generation gap
what happened to the malcom-xs
& don't give me denzel washington when i ask for him
we need something genuine
& i know some may be taken
but no offense
like when so many minorities are arrested
there was no offense
but we're fighting a judicial system that wasn't meant to include us
i mean these were slave codes
it was purposely built to exclude us
the only real culture in this country
is capitalism
and i'm from the nation's capitol
which was once the murder capitol
but they still murdering for capital
calling us gangsters, thugs & thieves
like we're the ones who killed & condemned native americans to reservations
after we stole their country
like we're the ones who penetrated a culture
like we're the ones who stole a people
like we're not the ones who built this country on our backs
while feeling every lash we received from the whips on our backs
while our women had to lie on their backs
i have to take it back
because it's hard to understand the state of this nation
without our story
this pain has been hanging over our heads for far too long
a willie lynch letter story
like my brothers with the rope neck ties
hanging from the forbidden trees
i'm just tired of seeing blood on the leaves
blood on the leaves
we are being deceived
perceiving this as reality
while we're seen as fruit
hanging on a forbidden tree
i'm questioning the story of christianity
because the garden of eden has a stench of curiosity
commonly seen in the culture of white supremacy
pay attention
this wasn't innovation
it was a mockery of ma'at's principles
better yet, a robbery
rewriting and renaming our culture
this was the beginning of black casualties
& now we casually follow the
blinded by the material aspects in society
woe is me
i'm just voicing this tragedy
i'm not the voice of this tragedy
we have a choice but it's tragic how we can't see
they ask if i'm a revolutionary
no, i'm just black
& i see evolution as the only solution in this situation
annihilation of this crabs in a bucket system
i'm sure they're laughing like
"everybody got it but them"
competing with our own brethren
like we aren't coming out the womb fighting a war for our lives already
our mindsets are premature
uplifting has became unfamiliar
like the family
so i pray to god that we aren't too far gone
trying to stay optimistic
but it's not my strong suit
so i pray to god that he keeps me strong
as pigs are paid to plaster my people's blood on concrete
and my people are longing to be apart of the black elite
they need their seat next to the oppressors
forgetting about the rest of us
but me
i simply want freedom
own my own everything
bring back the black wall street
create a new society
i'm tired of these "solutions" mirroring pacification
bus boycotts ended
but we were still barely allowed an education
i'm a broken record of laurence fishburne
at the end of a spike lee joint
yelling wake up
i just hope somebody can hear me
over the gunshots that are killing radio raheems
how can anybody love this country
have a conscience
& not hate themselves
but i guess that idea is obsolete
they want us to hate ourselves
saying 'be yourself'
but preaching assimilation
welcome to our great nation
continually desisting the blacks of each generation
while widening the generation gap
what happened to the malcom-xs
& don't give me denzel washington when i ask for him
we need something genuine
& i know some may be taken
but no offense
like when so many minorities are arrested
there was no offense
but we're fighting a judicial system that wasn't meant to include us
i mean these were slave codes
it was purposely built to exclude us
the only real culture in this country
is capitalism
and i'm from the nation's capitol
which was once the murder capitol
but they still murdering for capital
calling us gangsters, thugs & thieves
like we're the ones who killed & condemned native americans to reservations
after we stole their country
like we're the ones who penetrated a culture
like we're the ones who stole a people
like we're not the ones who built this country on our backs
while feeling every lash we received from the whips on our backs
while our women had to lie on their backs
i have to take it back
because it's hard to understand the state of this nation
without our story
this pain has been hanging over our heads for far too long
a willie lynch letter story
like my brothers with the rope neck ties
hanging from the forbidden trees
i'm just tired of seeing blood on the leaves
****
Same Difference
-- a
Difficult Friends on Facebook poem
Her emptying heart, it’s the same difference each time.
Mommas’ faces go dark, bodies close up
around a son’s name, a daughter’s name -- no child to wrap
around.
It’s the same difference, this American refrain,
this back beat we refuse to stop dancing to.
been shot
not armed
black
Mommas’ bodies close up with no child to wrap around,
and the story we tell is the same and different,
that black people are terrifying,
that brown people are time bombs,
that black and precious only applies to pearls and candy.
been shot
pregnant
black
This beat-black makes a city line a front line,
sings its quiet song in the holstered guns of police
trained in fear, armed for war against citizens
suspect all, and more and more so
for the same and different
reason every time.
black
loud music
been shot
This should not get easier.
This been shot, black, not armed, 12 year old,
skittles and a hoodie, dad at Walmart buying
the same different toy gun, the woman
on the porch not in all the trouble yet,
been shot, brown, not precious
like a pearl or candy, dead as wood,
the same difference every time.
reached for a phone
brown
been shot
The same and different history strangers us,
lets distance feel like reason, like clarity.
The difference between clarity and reality
is a history of the police never, not for a minute, on your
side.
not aware
of surroundings
brown
been shot
So, when you post they shouldn’t have been there,
they shouldn’t have said, they shouldn’t have done, they --
look at all that fire, all that damage
-- but you don’t mean the fire at the child, the damage to
the family,
because they are they and we know how to be:
you dance to the song sung by bullets
in the same holstered gun,
you close the different momma’s body,
her emptying heart,
around this clear reality,
her dead child.
This should not get easier for you.
****
I Can’t Breathe
by Majid Naficy
In Memory of Eric Garner
“I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!”
What a painful statement!
For the first time
I heard it from my own tongue.
I jumped from my sleep in panic
And ran toward my dad’s bedroom
He put my head
On his chest,
Caressed my face
And said: “Majid!
Be calm!
Be calm.”
Today I hear that statement
From the tongue of a black man on YouTube Who is being choked Held by a
white policeman.
No one puts the black man’s head
On his chest,
Caresses his face
And says: “Eric!
Be calm
Be calm.”
Hundreds of years of slavery,
Hundreds of years of brutality
Press on the black man’s throat
And do not let White America
Hear his voice:
“I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!”
by Majid Naficy
In Memory of Eric Garner
“I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!”
What a painful statement!
For the first time
I heard it from my own tongue.
I jumped from my sleep in panic
And ran toward my dad’s bedroom
He put my head
On his chest,
Caressed my face
And said: “Majid!
Be calm!
Be calm.”
Today I hear that statement
From the tongue of a black man on YouTube Who is being choked Held by a
white policeman.
No one puts the black man’s head
On his chest,
Caresses his face
And says: “Eric!
Be calm
Be calm.”
Hundreds of years of slavery,
Hundreds of years of brutality
Press on the black man’s throat
And do not let White America
Hear his voice:
“I can’t breathe!
I can’t breathe!”
****
Found Poem:
For Trayvon
by JP Howard
The man in the
video
had no intention
of target
practice.
He confirmed:
a company
offered for sale a target,
a faceless
silhouette
wearing a
hoodie,
his hands in
his pockets,
one of which
was holding two objects.
These objects
were non-threatening.
The target was
acting suspiciously.
His faceless
silhouette was a novelty.
The man shot
the silhouette in self-defense.
His intentions
have been misunderstood.
He didn’t
think it was appropriate
for “a
no-shoot situation.”
Authorities
confirm the target was unarmed.
He was a
silhouette,
wearing a
hoodie,
his hands in
his pockets,
holding two
non-threatening objects.
He bore a
likeness to Trayvon.
*The words in this poem are taken from an ABC News article entitled: “Trayvon
Martin Shooting Targets Were ‘No-Shoot’ Tools, Fired Cop Says” | Link to
article: http://abcnews.go.com/blogs/headlines/2013/04/trayvon-martin-shooting-targets-were-no-shoot-tools-fired-cop-says/
*Found Poem for Trayvon was originally published in Issue
1 of Sibling Rivalry Press’ print journal, Adrienne:
A Poetry Journal of Queer Women in January 2014. Link to website: http://siblingrivalrypress.com/adrienne/
****
He fell on his knife
by Chandramohan S
A teenager
Ventured out in the twilight
Of the Jim Crow era
Shot dead unceremoniously,
An unemployed
Roadside vendor
Smothered with choke hold,
They all fell on their knives.
The jury washed the blood
Of indictment
Off the knives.
****
Ferguson
by Donna Katzin
Three days
before Thanksgiving
another
white officer walked free
after
shooting another unarmed black teen --
his killing
not even a crime.
The National
Guard in riot gear
twelve
hundred strong
could not
sweep marchers from the streets,
hands in the
air, signs screaming
Stop killing our children.
They could
not stop the fire, broken glass,
police cars
rocked with rage, could not
pepper spray
the people from neighborhoods in Portland,
staunch the
rallies that rivered through Baltimore, Boston
and across
the bridge to Brooklyn.
And all the
boys in baseball caps,
girls with
bare heads frizzing in the wind,
grandmothers
with photos in their hands,
men with sons
in their hearts, could not
bring back
one chocolate-skin child
to the arms
of the woman who raised him
152 years
after the Emancipation Proclamation
in the
United States of America.
They
remembered
Patrick
Moses Dorismond
Nicholas
Heyward
Ramarley
Graham
Tamon
Robinson
Ousmane
Zongo
Trayvon
Martin
Michael
Brown
Amadou
Diallo
Tim
Stansbury
Rodney King
Kimani Gray
Eric Garner
Tamir Rice
Jim Crow
… but could
not remember what
to be thankful for.
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