Drifted

It seemed that we had drifted beyond the openness of enslavement of souls

Beyond the space where black bodies brace against the brazen lash of tethered leather scraps

It seemed that we had drifted beyond a place where keloid skin was a reminder that we were not always free, here in America.

It seemed that we had drifted beyond a space where first name Jim surname Crow meant shipping and receivables in the back little brown girl, little brown boy.

It seemed that we had drifted beyond a time where white sheets were more than crisp linens but uniforms of destruction.

It seemed that we had drifted beyond an area where Magnolia Trees bloomed red bloodied bodies of brothers of promise.

It seemed that we had drifted beyond a time where black and brown soled shoes made headway by beating down asphalt pavements, hands raised high with placard signs denoting non-negotiables, I AM A MAN.

It seemed that we had drifted beyond a sphere when the stallion black and brown bodies of mares chased a rainbow coalition of hopefuls with the dread of despair because their mounters were afraid of something as simple as an equal sign.

It seemed that we had drifted beyond a time when silver coins meant all seating in the rear.

It seemed that we had drifted beyond a place where white men with black ink struct down oppression by signing a writ.

But, like grains of sand we have drifted yet the unhopeful continue to kill us.

It seemed that we had shifted into a safe space where voices of hopefuls shook up the world: Muhammad Ali aka Cassius Clay, Malcom X, Martin, Barrack, Joseph, Kamala, John, Mahatma, W.E.B., Nelson, Dorothy, Elie, Desmond, Malala, Ida, Cesar, Hosea, Dick, Gloria, Barbara, Stokely, Jesse, Brother Fred, Al, Thomas, Harriet, Booker T, Colin, Common and HOPEFULLY YOU & Me.