Too much\ too many
enough\ enough\ no end
how things add up\ take their toll\ leave you drained
Not my child/ or my nephew
Not my brother/ or my uncle
Not my niece/ or my cousin
Not my best friend/ or my co-worker
Not my neighbor/ or his son
No one I knew
And yet, all of them
all of them
And #BlackDeath over and over and over
Now makes it possible for you
to wrap your tongue around those
three bold words
and suddenly see the shadows of
400 years worth of distributed brutality
of the problem.
I fear the past tense.
It’s a killer.
2 thoughts on “The Toll”
I remember you once Ameritech that your posts about race get fewer responses. I’ve noticed the same on my blog. I was just going to like your poems. I just wanted you to know I appreciate your words, your insights, your courage.
Thank you so much, Jessica for reading and commenting. It means a lot. I hope you and your family are safe and healthy.