a dream; perhaps a nightmare

When you lose your art

you cry.

your music,

your drawings, your poems

gone.

there goes happiness.

there goes memories.

there goes progress;

and problems.

there she goes.

My sadness reaches down my mouth. 

Her cool slippery hands snatching the breath i have left to breathe 

She persuades my anger to do the same; 

They love to torture together. 

What do I do,

as a black woman,

when they get control?

when the consequences

don't matter anymore?

when I watch my people

get bullied,

get beat,

get murdered,