say it three times & it'll appear in your hands

I wrote this poem because I just can’t watch more videos of Black bodies being murdered and villainized by the police state. His body received 60 shots and the police handcuffed his dead carcass. There is no soul in this place. There is no soul

Photo by Nsey Benajah on Unsplash

made aware are we of
obsidian rocks on our throats
lustred rage, suppressing
our capacity to live well
tomorrow I will be
outraged once again
verily still, we can't talk of hurt