Poem: Solidarity from Salvador

 

What do I shout to my people

From 7,000 miles away?

How can words quench Baltimore

Burning in the name of Freddie Gray?

Our country right now ignites enflamed

For Black bodies shot down

Black bodies still blamed

I picked up my pen

Engulfed in moral outrage

From from across the Atlantic

So let my ink burn down this page

 

What do I shout to my people

From 7,000 miles away?

Believing change arrived

When Obama came to play

Now embers of resentment linger

For those who marched anticipating

Left broken-hearted and abandoned,

Waiting

And waiting

 

What do I shout to my people

From 7,000 miles away?

Seeking refuge in Black churches

In Jesus’ name they pray

Promised by preachers in pulpits

Goodness will prevail

Then exit church doors straight

In to the heart of living hell

Emptying purses and pockets

Praying for the Lord’s grace

Or some life without suffering

But find no single trace

Tuning in to television

Only to hear mentioned another name

Another lost daughter or son

Another victim lay slain

 

What do I shout to my people

From 7,000 miles away?

Instructed violence is not the answer

Yet are brutalized each day

Incarcerated for their existence

Murdered without resistance

Deprived basic means of subsistence

Promise hope was on the horizon

As inequality keeps on rising

And just a few of us are thriving

While most struggle just surviving

 

What do I shout to my people

From 7,000 miles away?

Confined in White minds

To narrow stereotypes media portrays

When they value broken windows

More than broken necks of our sons

Believing Black rage must be met

With tanks, national guard, & guns

Curfews imposed, states of emergency

declared

Insufficient resources as we suffer

But when we revolt they’re prepared

 

What do I shout to my people

From 7,000 miles away?

Peacefully protesting in the streets

Refusing justice be delayed

With Ferguson on our lips

And Michael Brown on our minds

Questioning in the silence of our hearts

How long our blood be spilled for their crimes

 

What do I shout to my people

From 7,000 miles away?

 

Give them hell…

Stand your ground…

For Truth does not sway.