“You never really understand a person until you consider things
from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in
it.” To Kill a Mockingbird ~ Harper Lee
I’ve stripped to my bones
to try and feel the weight
of another’s skin, crawled
out of my own thinking
to explore foreign thoughts
alien to the landscape I’ve
made my home.
In the brine of history
my spirit burns with the scars
of those shackled to prejudice.
The walk of chains allows only
as much freedom as the length
inhuman allows it to roam.
In the everything repeated nothing learned
anger blooms from the same well-tended root
of hate’s tree never pruned.
I walk the cliff edge of hymns where
the slave song is now a chant,
“No Justice No peace.”
In a savage shaking I awaken in my privilege,
look down at my skin, and know nothing
will change if I remain content to live
in my city of silence.
