Dear Black Man-Pierre Pinson

I am you, through and through. 

I love you with this heart 

beaten black and blue. 

I’m stuck doing what I have to do while others do what they want. 

I pray for the prey 

who don’t know who’s on the hunt. 

They couldn’t imagine what it’s like to be me, 

to be We, 

to be Us, 

knowing the only way to freedom is to free us. 

They expect our women to leave us, because they’ve been taught 

they don’t need us. 

Others misguided, seeking to please us, thinking that’s the way to keep us. 

Everyone views us, 

but no one sees us. 

Even when they seize us, 

not even us. 

They perceive us as everything but a man. They give you the boot, the finger, some ass, everything but a hand. 

It’s not enough to stand on your own; we have to levitate. 

And I never hesitate 

to defy gravity or the odds. 

People will hear this 

and think that it’s hard. 

Most people don’t believe in God, that’s why they don’t believe in us. But even in their disbelief, 

their disbelief is not enough.

Because everywhere’s a war zone, 

where the prospect of death is never foreclosed, and no one foregoes an opportunity to use us as targets. 

They love this darkness 

yet fear the dark, 

a contradiction 

that lives in their heart. 

A division inside 

that deprives them of eyes 

ready to witness the divine as I exist. 

I wish that all men could be this. 

At one time, we all were. 

That time is now a blur, 

a black smudge 

across the fabric of humanity, 

a decrepit mirror 

that twists ugliness to vanity. 

I find me and find sanity. 

We find us and find family.