I spoke into the mic but they couldn’t hear me
He bled his own blood but they couldn’t see that
He fears for his life but it only gets sucked up by the thoughts and emotions and words
of those more important.
Or so they think.
Deep down inside of them there hides sympathy
for that boy who was shot down,
or that girl who was beat down
by her own.
They don’t see us and we see them
and they see us at the wrong times
when it’s too late to realize and too late to sympathize our situation
too late to save the life of the boy who could’ve been my brother.
I question what my world has come to in the midst of all this
hatred on top of fear on top of worry.
Souls on top of souls.
Like MLK said, “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere”
So why does this injustice get covered over like a dead body?
Fighting fire with fire it only seems to get us nowhere.
But fighting with my eyes open I see that
under the hatred and fear and worry
there is a possibility
that my brothers don’t have to live and die in silence.
I scream into the mic so that they can hear me
and they hear me and my brother’s hope and longing
and a day when I can leave the house
and love my Earth.
* * *
Mari Chiles is a 15-year-old sophomore from Atlanta. An aspiring writer, she frequently writes reviews, recipes and poetry for MyBrownBaby.