Sometimes, only poetry can tell us how we feel.

Last weekend, an African-American child in Cleveland was shot by police because he had a toy gun.

Today, a grand jury in Missouri denied justice to the family of Michael Brown.

The stain of racism does not wash away. It reasserts itself on the fabric of our society again, and again, and again.

I have no words to tell you how I feel about this. I only have my frustration and my rage and my longing and my tears and my broken heart. This is not the world I want for my kids. Or my kids’ friends. Or my neighbors. Or your kids. We all deserve to be honored and protected and respected and free. The child in Cleveland did not deserve to die. Neither did the teenager in Ferguson. No one does.

 

I am so tired of waiting,

Aren’t you,

For the world to become good

And beautiful and kind?

-Langston Hughes

 

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3 thoughts on “Sometimes, only poetry can tell us how we feel.

  1. Not that this makes me any less outraged, but @ScottMendelson summed up my reaction very well in this tweet:

    “White privilege is me being outraged and angered by the #FergusonDecision rather than utterly terrified.”

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