Insanity

I feel hopeful, I feel heard, I feel seen

Shelves stocked with afros, slogans, black queens and kings.

Talk shows, videos, podcasts, and movies

All highlighting our history and broadcasting our movements.

Books teaching our children how to embrace themselves

How they should ignore the hate and love their self

The world makes it seem like we're finally being seen

That there's finally an understanding to our struggles and pain

We're screaming to be heard, aching for the world to listen

And for two months out of the year they seem to pay attention

Black History Month, Juneteenth, and all of our little days in between

It's the time when the world wants to show us love

Respect us, trust us, see us as more than thugs.

Everything is about equality and inclusion

Ways are paved so that we can be included

and

Still

When that time has passed and our days are gone

So is the respect that was reigned upon

No more listening, no more pictures

End caps dismantled, and logos erased

Our opinions are censored, and respect turns to hate

When will those months end and acceptance continue?

When will the home of the brave see that we have heart in this land too?

It's our place we call home for some it’s all we ever knew

Our mothers grieve in this country

for sons that continuously bleed in this country.

How can we make it stop?

Do we change the direction of what we’re willing to accept?

Do we allow ourselves to scream, and cry, show we’re upset?

Oh no-

We can’t speak our mind or express our emotions

Without a look of fear, accusations, or commotion

How can we get them to see?

See that deep down we just want equality.

Equality in the land that won’t take fault

for the anger that they themselves had set in motion

So understand me when I say

That after those months end and the merchandise is stocked away

And the people who showed so much support become silent

It’s a loud reminder of the truth that we’re fighting

That our months are a way to brand us for money

No different then how they did the slaves “informally”

Different way of living but it’s the same term

We’re living in a different time, but we have to do the same work

I think its time we checked our framework

Seeing the same patterns but expecting different is insanity

Yet when our months come around again and again

We ride the waves of feeling like we’re finally accepted, finally in.

Then that wave comes to an end

And we're back where we started once again.