Two brown girls called black

dead

from the insult we call justice.

Just once

hoping for us to be just.

Just ice

their cold bodies lay on.

That same ice coursing through

their mama’s veins

when she gets the call that

it’s her daughters this time,

sat down for standing up

to a justice

we don’t know.

White man from white lands,

standing still,

learning still.

Brown eyes match the description

of the innocent,

but our bodies are different

they say.

Black Death. White Savior.

Black gets no savior.

No good time for no good behavior.

Dead on the ground is as sound

as it gets.

White Scars.

Black Lines.

White Head spinning

with irony,

trying to figure out

what I did to deserve this.

Black asks no questions.

They know it’s nothing

to be done.

No reason why,

but do nothing

and still die.

Another body strewn across history,

our eyes the only books to write it down

‘cuz the pen skipped over it again.

I am blessed with no real blessing

but a face God set for me back in the day.

White Skin over melted heart.

God given.

Man driven.

White Speak, Privilege Leaks,

trying to wipe out,

trying to lie about

any difference in growing up.

White town cries poor,

cries more. Wants yours.

Knows about ground floor,

bed sores,

food stamps and more.

Says it knows the struggle,

but their two cents they rub together

never started a fire in a church.

White Hood in Black Hood,

Only one misunderstood.

White Hood holds no secrets.

It holds the torch in both hands.

And we sit by, White Light

White Knight,

Full Rights,

Crying justice among us,

trying to be just among what

we never had to experience.

White Skin chars in the fire;

Black Skin just gets rougher.

It’s seen this fire before

in the days before it was borne.