A Poem on a Friday: Hands Up, Don’t Shoot

Protest Continue Across Country In Wake Of NY Grand Jury Verdict In Chokehold Death Case

March on.

My body shakes and sweat drips from my palms

in anticipation as I stomp through the crowd.

Hand’s up!

Don’t shoot!

An orb of fire ignites in my chest, bellowing and

flickering as I tell myself this is right, this is freedom.

What does it mean to stand alone? Are you a fool

or a soldier? But the flames continue to seep through

my veins, the same blaze that flared inside Dr. King,

inside Malala, inside the boy in Tiananmen Square.

We hunt for the truth, rise to demolish our oppression.


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