We do not own people
We cannot scan barcodes,
Detailing their entire ancestry,
With hope to find some answer
As to why they are the way they are…now; present, past and future
We do not listen to the scratching of a pen on notebook paper,
Scrawling out the spaces in our vertebrae backbone,
Filing away at our worth in society.
Come down from there,
And stand here next to the guillotine
Lacing your fingers in between their slits.
We do not love a people to own them
Cake dirt on the soles of your feet,
And tell me that when you breathe, it doesn’t feel like you’re being cut through the air.
Love tastes like a plate full of one seed.
Little sprouted leaves ravage the dining table,
And love tastes like a forest.
I cannot cut it in half.
No bite sized pieces.
No dinner tray for one
No galleria of food,
That could be shared with the whole neighborhood.
We shall flow in and out
Back in and back out
Rise and collapse
Collapse and re-rise.
We do not own people,
Because are not the writers of them.