If Racism Was a Natural Disaster

Apr 27, 2017

It’d be a drought,


the cracked ground we walk on,

the beating sun pushing us down.

“But it rained a couple of times,”

they tell us, while the heat


is scorching our skin


and dust is in our eyes.


“Get over it,” they tell us


from their green, watered lawns.

We sit in the sun, baking for generations,

waiting for the forever rain,


no trees to protect us.


The trees were never there to protect us.