Protection of the Prophecy

In my hands I hold tears of sorrow.

In my heart I blend ignorance & fear.

My logic brings me,

to want to want to bring the sorrow of death,

among the whites too.

But, God continues to whisper in my ear.

And for that they should be thankful ....

They should be thankful, right!?

That the only man I fear,

happens to be a Black Man too,

& in his hands he holds the prophecy:

Be strong & stand hold to see what the Black Man can be.

The Black Man,

Seen as such corruption in the eyes of these white americans.

The Black Man,

The first being to walk this earth in the perfect image of our God.

The Black Man.

If you want us to believe in those televised lies then come up with better ones,

Because, logic?

There is none.

My generation accepts nothing but the truth and for that our ancestors are thankful.

That Black Man who's child had to witnessed that Black Women defending him with our only defense right now, 
a camera?

That's what broke the camels back!

That was my last straw!

I seen that Black Man being of the youngest who stand closest to me.

I seen that Black Man being of the ones who stands oldest to me.

The ones who are supposed to protect me...

But now,
the world asks,
what protection is to be provided from me?

That answer came with peace from within my own community.

As I watched the youngest of Black Women,

& the ones who stand oldest to me,

behind, beside & between our brothers holding on to their prophecy:

Be strong & stand hold to see what the Black Man can be!

They showed me that they could kill'em,

they could harm'em,

but the black man's greatest secret weapon is me.

Yeah,

Yeah, I said they could kill,

but let me know where our next rally will be.

They could pass "Laws" & we won't see change,

But let me know which industry we'll be boycotting today.

Dear Dr. King,
peaceful protest makes logical sense to me but like Malcolm X & Langston Hughes I will use my gift of voice and poetry freely,

so Dear Black Man,

this poem is my promise to you.

Beside you I will always be.

On capital hill,

with a sign in my hand,

in a kufi.

In a jail cell looking at you through the bars,
wondering,
 if this is what life is suppose to be?

Lying dead,
in mixture of our blood on the concrete.

Mixing our blood & making more of God's greatest creations because right now,

beside you,

whatever it takes.

That's where I will to be.

Dear Black Women, 
Be strong & stand hold to see what the Black Men can be.