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Air, A Poem



The air I breathe is the same as yours,
Tainted with the stench of death and pollution.
I’ve learned to hold my breath
The same way you hold grudges.
I know how you love to take it
In the name of an arrest.
I need a rest.
Everything within me has begun
To be numb.
To be black has become
Seeing the light, but never feeling the Sun.
Black boys perishing too young to see sons
Has me cherishing every breath that leaves these lungs.
Tired of my people praying for a second wind,
Waiting to exhale.
We often find ourselves catching bullets more than catching breath.
So, we need some fresh air,
A moment to air out these grievances.
The air is getting thick
As we have run out of space
To evade the elephant in the room.
The Elephants in the House
Forgot that we built it.
Maybe they will remember
If we burn it down.
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
Your hands are forever stained with blood.
For you so loved Air Jordan,
You wanted to give every black man wings.
You appointed yourself God,
Bending our air to your will.
You are no Avatar,
You will be the Last Airbender.
When this nation of fire attacks,
The very atmosphere will change.
We gave you peace,
You never gave us the same.
Jim Crow never went home to roost,
His feathers still hang over our heads.
Your ignorance to our pain has left us breathless,
Not speechless.
The air we breathe is the same as yours,
Can you smell the smoke?

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