28/heartbreak

this  poem was also published on bucultureshock.com

my breath catches in my throat

as the continuity of life

is abruptly disrupted.

again.

as i sat down to write

a poem about my slain brothers

and sisters.

(and sisters).

another was murdered.

i watched live streams

of black souls gathering in berkeley,

missouri to rally against

the destruction of black life

and debasing of black humanity.

a woman screamed once,

twice,

three times until someone pulled her away.

her screams echoed in my ears

until they were all i heard.

i was not there,

but i was there.

i did not just witness

their rage,

i lived it.

words again escape me as i try

to make sense of death and retribution.

of revolution and silence.

but i am not sure

that there is a way to make sense

of such things.

how do you live

when you know

that your unborn child

is one bullet away from becoming

a trending hashtag?

why do you live

when you know

that your unborn child

is one bullet away from becoming

a trending hashtag?

i’m not sure

how to make you understand

what a tragedy it is

that i could not finish a poem before another of us

was killed.

i am losing sleep,

while others are losing lives.

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