The Darkening Red of your Blood

Now your shoulders have broadened
and the cleft in the centre of your chest
is more pronounced,
at some point you will be stopped
by policemen for no valid reason.
They will ask unnecessary questions.
They will say something to try
to degrade you. They will look
for some reaction or excuse
to cause you some harm. Their eyes
will betray their intent and you will feel
an anger so mighty it will make you
clench your jaw, make the veins
in your temple’s throb because you know
that one punch of your youthful
strength you can lay them out like sleeping
infants, make them trace their maps of bruises
for weeks in the mirror. This is a trap,
young brother. Do not fall for it.
Don’t be the ink of a new obituary.
Think about your mother’s grimace,
think of the gap you’ll leave
amongst your people, grieving
you like a tongue to a missing tooth.
Take the contempt out of your eyes.
They love the flow of blood;
it makes them feel powerful, like a god.
They’ll talk about how dark red your blood
seemed at the station for years. They’ll laugh
at its thickness, how you passed out begging
for help. Realise that keeping yourself alive
is bigger than racism and disrespect. Keep alive,
young brothers, keep living.

Roger Robinson from “’A Portable Paradise’ (winner of the T S Eliot prize 2019)

Extract from a poem written for the Children’s Defense Fund

If my luck is bad
And his aim is straight
I will leave my life
On the killing field
You can see me die
On the nightly news
As you settle down
To your evening meal.
 
But you’ll turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.
 
In the city streets
Where the neon lights
Turn my skin from black
To electric blue
My hope soaks red
On the grey pavement
And my dreams die hard
For my life is through.
 
But you’ll turn your back
As you often do
Yet I am your sons
And your daughters too.

Maya Angelou – recipient of the President’s Medal of Freedom 2010