To the dock of the Black River by Alicia Vinson
Today, I run
The black essence that connects my feet
To that painted on the concrete
Diligently admiring these stains
Of blue vandalized soul
Kids restricted by the streetlight
Whose mamas only trust them with the other brown folk
Rusted plaque regulations in white
Our neighborhood speaks love
Yet the city speaks
Wildfire and bruises
Anyone who’s smart would awaken
For safety is our killer
Anyone whose timeline is smeared in white-out
Would lead prayer
We ask, what will this city be painted in?
The murals of our youth,
Or the tears blooming the flowers of our ancestors?
We know the answer
As the backbone of this city, we must go
The tears
Make up this ocean
Holding the planks up with such prosper
Which I run towards,
For the sanctuary of my grandma’s cradling
For the flowers that rub my veins in hymn
While I wait my turn
On this dock; this grave
My friend
I get your fear, I do
For our dock is not painted a chalk gold glaze
It is raw wooden brown
The water leaking our blood at their palms
Sister and brother
I believe we will continue this revolution
For our roots will elongate to and from the fractured heart
To the children so criminal
For the black boys
Limited in toys
And girls whose hair not cherished in the eyes of the sea
But masked in the bitter plucks of bleach and chlorine
From hands to dock we clamp
Dock to droplets we kiss
Not a taste of the discolored boat on our lips
The time on our watch reads2000
And I understand the strong fingers that
Pull me towards your revolt
Eyes blank with fear
“Will we simply float past time
In the tombs of our blood?
To be passed down from generation
To generation we
Will carry us, only us?”
Crooked smile in confidence
My feet dive into our waters
A bridge of your love
To the promised land
Until our sea is so black
Floods the city of our rhythm
That they can’t run, that they can’t wait