Ready...Aim...Fire!

Reads: 42  | Likes: 3  | Shelves: 3  | Comments: 3

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 27, 2018

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Submitted: August 27, 2018

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Ain’t it amazing how chains can turn into whips, whips can turn into ropes, and ropes can turn into guns?

Ready...aim...fire!

Turned just as fast as babies turn into children, children turn into bullseyes, and bullseyes turn into hashtags.

But not all children. Some just have the melanin that’s fit for trending.

Hashtag ready...aim...fire!

 

Into Black skin.

Into tough skin.

Into elastic skin that’s so used to being stretched,

that bullets only bounce off of it and into the movement.

Can’t you hear it?

 

A movement so triumphant it transcends the Constitution.

The very thing that gave it reason for existence.

For promising that every man shall be equal,

when all we see is the sequel of Emmett Till stuck on replay.
 

A movement whose march of footsteps ring louder than any ready...aim...fire!

A faction that’s done being the dividend of a nation built off of its back.

Yet put down on its back as if a fraction of humanity.

But these are whole Black bodies!

These, these and these Black bodies are real!

 

Can’t make the numbers of these actions rational.

It’s not natural for my hands to tense up on the wheel when I see them.

My dad say, “I can’t be driving scared.”

I say “I can’t be driving alive now either.”

Because I am target.

Only a matter of time before the clock strikes midnight and the right to remain silent is enforced.

Permanently.

 

Woe to the mothers.

It’s sad really.

How they have to compensate birth certificates for eulogies before names are even concocted.

Can’t calculate how 9 months can equate to a lifetime of pain.

While the black and blue miscalculate a problem not meant to be solved.

Thinking one Black life subtract one Black life equals zero repercussions.

It ain’t that simple. They can’t order us into their operations.

 

But they can get ready...take careful aim...and FIRE...all they want.

But bullets run out.

Blackness lasts forever.

 


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