Hands Up. Don’t Shoot.
I kept my hands up
Because I did not want
Him to believe that I
Was reaching for something
Reaching for something…
I know that
There is nothing more
That you´d wish for
Than for me to be
Pressed under
The cement ceiling
You´ve constructed
My greatest weapon
Is not anything that
Could cause you bodily harm
However, the questions I pose
Force you into a
Place of unfamiliarity?
When I ask,
“Why must I learn this?
Speak this way? Dress this way?
Eat this way? Think this way?”
You feel unarmed.
Only because you
Have never asked
Those questions yourself.
“Why are those people hungry?
Why do they have so much?
Why can’t they be part of our group?
Why are there ghettos near gated communities?”
You answer,
“That´s just the way it is.”
And when I ask,
“Why does it have to be this way?”
I find my hands in the air.
I scrape the surface of
The cement ceiling
And I know
It is only a matter of time.
One day
You will have to
Answer these questions.
But for now
My hands are in the air
My mouth is closed
- But my eyes and mind remain open
Don’t shoot.
I´m only trying
To redefine your beliefs
I know this scares you
But don’t shoot.
Because killing me
Does not answer these questions.
Rather, it inspires others
Who think this way
To become more vocal.
Don´t shoot.
My life is no less
Valuable than yours.
Don´t shoot.
Because I still need time
To answer these questions.
- K.S. Fort
From, "The Civilized N -"
Link : http://amzn.to/2fmK5Nd
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