There is much to be said for the word,
the title, the verbal shit,
that is the word racist.
In fact, too much is said.
It is the cushion to fall back on
when you are angry and stupid
and have no words to fight with....
it is the narrowness of your mind
and your heart and your soul...
it is the cloak you wear
to try to fend off the weather,
the rain, the snow,
the heat, the cold,
because you do not understand
how to live in the world
that you imagine that you want
and imagine that you are in,
the world that neither recognizes you,
nor accepts you.
You are nothing,
so you try to balance that
by using the one word that everyone is using,
hoping that it will give you some sort of leverage,
on this bumpy ground you find yourself on.....
It won't wash, fool.
Eventually you will do something —
you will go away, or you will die,
or you will become nothing,
as you are,
as you have always been,
as you will always be.
The world will not care what happens to you.
You see.... that is what becomes of someone
who hides behind their own identity.
Comments on this poem/writing:
Click here to read other Poems by Shiloh
Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack