The older I get, the angrier I am. It’s not just singular things creating chaos in the world. No, in fact, it is trying to pry things out of people who will never care if certain oppressions do not happen to them. The older I get, the more I wanted to tear at the screen dividing some from really feeling what is in this world. I wanted to cut out the screens in windows and make all around us see the destruction. See how people weep while their blood runs through the street like ominous rain. See how the churches are set ablaze with the hymnal pages incinerated and faith tested. See how the living still call for the dying or ones who have passed on, while clutching at their insides. See how the Black and Brown children hold sadness and anger in their chest, all the while their lips quiver and shout that they are hurting. See how people hold their hands on both sides of their face and go through life, a tunnel vision gaze. See how the uneasiness is questioned. See how the “let us take action” is questioned. See how they are both are housed in each body who has not seen a world without persecution.
Listen, the children are laughing in their neighborhood and suddenly their laughs turn to terrorized screams. Listen, how the newscasters are standoffish. The news network pride themselves that they have initiated clarity on what “these people” have been through. “Let’s listen for forgiveness.”
Listen closely to our parents retracting their grasp, then suddenly pulling us back, afraid. Listen to how we must emboss our children with what has happened before to know they deserve to be here.
The older I get, the angrier I am at the on/off switch to what is important. The older I get, the angrier I am that “opinions” have been fought for but they have never been mine. The older I get, the angrier I am, that I must be intentional in not being boxed in as a play-thing or that “one black friend.”
The older I get, the angrier I am that my people’s tears are cupped and filtered as we cry through our drought.