Poet Spotlight: Untitled by Christian McIntire

In light of the recent events in Ferguson, Missouri, I shared three pieces on here earlier this week and received an email from my former teacher about them, who, in turn, shared a piece he had written last summer after the verdict in the Trayvon Martin case. This piece is seriously deep and amazing and is very much pertinent to today's circumstances. Enjoy!

Where were you when it happened?
When the lynch mob arrived,
and the court of public opinion
put blackness on trial?

Me? I was still thinking –
thinking, of the color of my skin.
My skin: a hood of exceptional power.
If exercised,
it is the hood of a Klansman.
Of institutionalized oppression;
of enslaved Africans in state penitentiaries;
of confined minds in sterile elementaries.

But I’m not one to stand up for white supremacy.

Now? Now I’m Feeling.
Believing.

The color of MY skin,
is a hood of exceptional power.
If challenged,
it is a hood of solidarity.
Of consciousness and community,
with my black and brown children and their families;
of seeking to dismantle what you seek to uphold;
of hope –
I hope audaciously to struggle against the status quo.

Where were you when it happened?
When the lynch mob arrived?
Did you stand up –
pop the right hood up –
when the death of a child
became the trial of our brothers?

Where will you be when our next child is taken?
What are we going to do

when the lynch mob arrives again?

Thank you, McIntire! I swear I read this over and over again; it is extremely powerful!

Dear Little Brother

Dear Little Brother,

For four years the only thing of this world you have known is
love.
Lots of love and hugs and kisses
Laughter and tickles
Disney and Nick, Jr.
You have a smile that lights up our world and a laugh that rumbles through it and fills our hearts.
I always wanted a brother.
You, Little Brother, are precious.

I am afraid though, Little Brother, that you will soon grow up and know
the real world.
Lots of ugliness and hatred 
Violence and destruction
Degradation of a generation.
Our world is nothing like yours is now, Little Brother, and I wish we could keep you in yours forever.

For protection.

Because when they see the color of your skin at age 17 wearing a hoodie, they will see you as a threat, not as the lovable young man I had the privilege of watching you grow up into.

Trayvon and Michael could've been my little brother.
They could've been you.

My president is black
but that doesn't mean this country has progressed so don't let anyone tell you that slavery is long gone, that you have no reason to be angry,
because embedded into the very flesh and blood of this nation
is a hatred for black people and especially
black men.

Little Brother,
you have only known four years of love and hugs and kisses and laughter and tickles and Disney and Nick, Jr.
You are precious.
I wish that I can keep you in that world forever.
Hopefully the world is a much better place when the time comes for you to meet it.

*For all the black men who lost their lives due to police brutality.