What Happened to the Dream

MLK had a dream
That dream is all but dead
Tamir gets no justice
Just like Trayvon
Or, as of yet,
Freddie Gray
We haven’t overcome
I appreciate
Being a brown girl
In law school
With opportunities
But my heart
It still hurts
It’s hard
We’ve come a ways
So much further to go
Can’t even
Say all I want
Express all I feel
It’s a shame
A travesty
We can’t even heal
I grieve
When will it end
When will
Delusions and dreams
Become reality
What happened
What happened
What happened
What happened
To the dream


I gave away
Of who I am
Of my heart
It was just
So difficult
Being me
Being different
I thought
It would
Just be easier
If I tried
Tried to fit in
If I
Shaved some of the square
Fit me
Into that round hole
Or if I
Trimmed the rectangle
To fit in that box
But the more I shaved
The more I trimmed
The hole and the box
Nobody was happy
The more pieces I gave
More pieces were required
I couldn’t even
What I was
Who I was
One day
I looked around
At all the shattered pieces
All that was left of me
I decided
I couldn’t
Be a broken
Unhappy, mess
Made up of pieces
That weren’t truly me
I took my time
As much as it hurt
As difficult as it was
And picked every piece up
I took all those pieces
Back to the potter
My tears
My prayers
Were the life
That watered the pieces
And that potter
Unlike humpty dumpty
Put me back together
No more pieces


At the end of the day
All I am is dirt
Breath brought to life
The dirt that is me
Water called life
Is added to that dirt
Then it’s pounded
Mixed and molded
More water is added
If the shape just isn’t right
When the dirt and water
Make just the perfect shape
This dirt that is me
Is thrown in heat
Left uncomfortable
Baking and baking
Until the dirt
Becomes something beautiful
Something the potter
Saw all along
When I was just some dirt
I don’t always
Quite see all the potter sees
I don’t want the water
Definitely not the heat
But whenever
I see the finished product
The potter’s masterpiece
I can’t help but be grateful
Grudgingly appreciate and accept
The next time
The potter
Adds water and bakes this dirt


Where is the justice
Crazy that a man
Gets time in jail
Over fighting dogs
Yet my brothers’ killers
Get off
Sometimes celebrated
Crazy what money
And skin color buy
Charges dropped
For the same drugs
My brothers get life for
Crazy that my brothers
Borderline savagely
Shot in the back
Laying in the street
Carrying a toy
Holding merchandise
Running away
Lying unable to breathe
Chased in the night
Painted like
Animals and criminals
As if their mistakes
Deserve amplification
And somehow justify their death
My Lord
Where is the justice
From what I see
Liberty and justice
Just ain’t for all

Second Class Citizens

I’m black in America

I’m supposed to live

In the land of the free

And the home of the brave

I’m supposed to believe and dream

If I work hard

This dream turns into a life fulfilled

But all it seems to come back to

Is the notion that I’ll never be enough

My black brothers and sisters

Are merely second class citizens

Blood continues to be spilled

Our churches burned

Our culture appropriated

We elected someone

Full of melanin

We are now post-racial

Racism is over

Yet so many have lost their lives

He gets no respect

Racism seems worse than it’s ever been

This is my country

This is my home

I’m supposed to be proud

“Proud to be an american

Where at least I know I’m free”

But am I really free

Or am I one wrong decision

Away from a bullet or a cell

As a kid

I never knew

The evil this world still held

I grieve for the lives lost

I am fearful for what the future holds

Money buys a lot of things

The NRA has bought Congress

Gun safety is a low priority

Education takes a backseat

While the rich get richer

And the poor get poorer

We talk about these injustices

Grand juries indict or they don’t

People are convicted or the aren’t

But nothing’s changing

Nothing’s better

At times I feel like

Me and my people

Are nothing more

Nothing less

Just simply seen as

Second class citizens

Brown Baby

Just looked at my nephew’s picture
Happy, smiling brown baby
He’s six months old
Even though he’s not mine
I’m excited to see him grow
I’ve thought about his future
Our future
He’s already amazing
I know I’m biased
But he’s so intelligent
Right now I’m worried
His name is Jeremiah Kaleb
But how will his story end
Will he be Oscar Grant
Killed at a transportation station
Will he be Trayvon Martin
Killed because he wore a hoodie while walking through a neighborhood
Will he be Jordan Russell Davis
Killed because his music was too loud
Will he be Kendrick Johnson
Harased then found dead, rolled up in a gym mat
Will he be Michael Brown
Killed without a weapon then slandered to cover for the cop
His life matters
Their lives mattered
No matter his intelligence or education
There is a fear
There is a threat
Simply because his skin contains more melanin
He has to walk with his head held down
His mouth closed
Subservient to a massa
Though slavery is over, the fight for civil rights ended
Because President Obama
Sits in the seat
Some say we have overcome
What really has been won
Post racial America is a fairytale
You don’t believe it
Ask Oscar, Trayvon, Jordan, Kendrick, and Michael’s families
Ask those families we don’t know about
Ask those frisked and profiled
Dr. King had a dream
Some say it was fulfilled on November 4, 2008
I think he’s still dreaming


Spent so much time looking for a savior
Searching for a hero to rescue me
Longing for unconditional love
To be seen, valued, treasured
Wanting to matter, belong
Trying to be a round peg
In an undersized square hole
Thinking if I changed me
They would be happy
Only it was too hard
Too uncomfortable
To change what mattered most
Looking back now
I could have pushed
And tried to changed the easier part
But the easier part
Was a coping mechanism
For the parts I buried and hid
Who I am refused to die
It wouldn’t be buried or denied
My savior saved me again
Became my hero and rescued me

Quote-Marianne Williamson 3-30-13

I felt like this was just for me when I heard it. Amazing quote.


Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.