Buried Books
I read people like banned books
Unafraid to know their secrets
And revelations printed on their faces
There’s nothing you will say that will shock me
Thrilling me to read more
If culture is only skin deep
Then your skin is made of glass
Some people say wait, you’re not dark
Enough to understand my struggle
Are you sure?
As another human in this race
We are all competing for respect
I’m an aquarium, tap the glass
I’m full of the bloods of our ancestors
Like watercolors swashed in distant shores
Buckled to memories as old as Pangaea
When I open my mouth, empathy pours out
Language is my nectar
The antidote to the monachopsis of existence
Borders drawn there by racism
We all have a word for love
Even the voiceless
Eternal truth unspoken
No need because it is felt by all
You know because your body gives it
To remind us it took a pandemic
How connected we are
Standing a grave’s depth apart
To admire each other like works of art.
