Commentary

I can’t teach you to care for me, for her, for him, for them There comes a time to realize compassion starts within A state of caring equally for those who bleed the same The mind plays tricks in phenotype, it’s us we have to blame

They will come to the door in broad daylight. Because they can. When the sun is high and shining, and Chicago summer feels like it will never end They will wait in the street. They will knock.

I sit on my balcony pretending I’m a parcel. Here’s a postman as a boy cataloguing letters handling fires. Sometimes we surprise ourselves. Sometimes we make for ourselves.

i used to wish that i was white i wished to scrape the melanin off my skin the hate the world wielded against my people forged its way within

Black babies wake up to generational trauma White babies wake up to generational wealth You tell me if we’re equal.