Black is more than just a word.
It’s a connection so silent
but clearly heard.
A pain so isolating that brings us together.
A strength that means that we can weather
–
our mere existence being a crime.
Those micro aggressions all the time.
The looks of worry, disgust and fear
but still I will not shed a tear.
–
I see my people beaten down
I see them bleeding on the ground.
I feel their knees upon our necks
I feel the pain inside my chest.
–
I hear the mothers cries of sorrow
sons here today but gone tomorrow.
I fear for children yet to be
I pray they do not feel that knee.
–
I pray they see the beauty in
the pigmentation of their skin.
The beauty that’s within their hair
I pray they do not have to bear,
–
oppressions weight upon their shoulders
and see as they grow slightly older
that they are not the enemy.
I pray they do not feel that knee.
–
I’m angry, hurt and I’m confused.
Misunderstood, weary and used.
They love our hair, but what the heck!
Why are their knees still on our necks?
–
They love us when it’s right for them
but we are not an insta trend.
We’re more than books, posts and black squares.
Quit asking me if it’s my hair.
–
I said blacks more than just a word.
It’s a connection so, silent but clearly heard.
A fight that’s lasted centuries
the strength to scream whilst under that knee.
–
The joy we have, the smiles we bring.
The love we share, the songs we sing.
The jokes we make, grandmas rum cake.
Yet we aren’t free
We Feel That Knee.
–
Written by Shania-Sophia Dunbar Ives
