Bleeding Heart

History does not make my heart swell with pride

My heart bleeds history

With every lesson learned a cut has been made

It's no wonder that I'm bleeding out

Ready to give up on this country

that has given up on my people, my brothers, my sons.

But, this is nothing new

We've seen this before

2016 is looking like more 1916 except

nooses have been traded in for guns

And the strange fruit that once hung from the trees

Is now hunted down, shot and left to bleed out on the streets

The tactics have changed. But the results remain the same.

Someone's son, father, husband (maybe all three) will have died in vain.

My heart bleeds a history that band-aids cannot heal.

And still, for every cut, there is a makeshift bandage:

Tamir, Trayvon, Alston, Philando

Blood continues to soak through

Every other day there is a new name to engrave

Another person's memory to save

I carry these names on my bleeding heart

This mother of sons who are black and brown

cannot help but beg when I pray that

there isn't a bandage that will read Taj or Joaquin someday.