Remember Me

Grief stands over me daily waiting for an ending.

First, at my conception when two Black bodies agreed on my death sentence.

Second, as I bathed in sand on that faithful playground praying I would return white.

Third, as my body felt the betrayal of my blood standing in my grandmother’s palace in the middle of the village.

Fourth, as I stare into my sister’s eyes knowing I cannot save her from her fate.

Fifth, when I am brought to my knees whilst my tongue translates my non-belonging.

Sixth, when I taste the bitterness of the silence between my grandmother and I. I cannot speak her tongue. Our tongue.

Seventh, whilst I sweep the path beneath my Black brothers’ futures as they’re chased. It is a call for blood.

Eighth, as my hair and body are prodded with Black hatred.

Ninth, as I bury dreams of reading my way out of being Black the hood.

Tenth, as the echoes of my skin dilute my past lovers understanding.

Remember me.