Michigan in Color: An American's Nightmare

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Lauren Matson

 

 

Monday, January 18, 2016 - 1:55pm

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An American's nightmare

Hello, Officer, I just saw that you shot a man of my same skin tone

My hands won't go near the wallet in my pocket

So leave your holster alone

That could've been me you know, an innocent brother of you, created out of the Creator's image

And I dub you Cain in this fable

You're still forgiven for the pass of Abel

Now don't lie and fabricate how this human your size was going to kill you with just flesh

Who had no intention to wring hands around your neck and take your life

But you take one anyway

I have it all on video and I should run out of fear for myself

But I have to record this too because I'm done with being lethargic to the cause and sick of progress being stagnant

You'd be more concerned with a man killing a lion than murdering the so-called “King of the Jungle”

The Black man in the hood

Instead, let's call this king a scholar

With a thirst for knowledge that isn't street smarts

And the hood is a community, not just a forsaken wasteland where Black-on-Black crime comes to a halt when you're around

But that's how you see it

And I'm glad you don't represent the majority of your occupation

But your representation sadly looks like the majority to me

Because the negligence, not mistakes, has been too much to zip my lip for

Now tell me, why did you shoot when he ran home to his mom with medicine he bought from the corner store?

 

“I was right in my decision,“ he said

“I don't make the rules, I enforce them.

“No, you do make the rules!” I retort, but they're your imagination

They're not our rights

Justice isn't watching a man half your age lose from the grave in the court of law

You should see the new trail of tears from the families whose lives you've broken

But I guess imprisonment to your conscience is some kind of consolation for your guilt

If you have any

Again, what if you shot me?

I'd spit out my spit, my blood, my diction

Scream it till you shoot me again; that's a fact, not fiction

I pray I'd be the last one slain for the violence to stop

Some whites scared of the Blacks

Some Blacks scared of white police

Uncomfortable and not safe are the thoughts we keep

This is the American Nightmare

The distraction from the dream

But it's really the obstacle they told us to jump over

And instead of ducking from bullets

You say, “Put your hands up, then lay down!”

But remember, you shot a king

So we just lost a crown

 

Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with this world

We're getting shot for looking suspicious and for not using our turn signal

Yes, all lives matter, but this is about half of my race

But that race becomes full when I am seen

Hypodescent

Put a white person in the Black's shoes

Would they have been shot?

Would they be left for dead in a Mickey D's parking lot?

Would they have justice not be served in their honor?

Would their children be living life without their father?

The way I see it is that this is incomprehensible

My mind can't wrap itself around the cracked fingernails that dirty the prison cell

And they collect those in a plastic bag, the same one placed over the head

A staged asphyxiation

Yes, I know this doesn't apply to every situation

But there are many stories that we don't hear about

I heard one last week like this that didn't make the news

And I'll admit that I've been more lazy to speak up than to get a new pair of shoes

It's time that society becomes materialistic to life

We need to value each other's

Because the second we realize we don't

Is the second we lose another brother