Poem by a New Mexican resident who goes by Ken Erdedy. Check out another piece written by him!
Who would dare to play truth with an infinite well of oppression,
Who would dare to stay and soothe the infinite well of depression,
Hand me downs of older brothers jeans again,
Hand me downs of trauma and pain,
You can watch the news and see me crucified,
You can listen to the blues and hear my peoples cry,
You can teach me the game only to have me subvert it,
You can teach me the same system only to have me invert it in a pastel pink polo shirt,
It is nothing to a soldier to lose a little blood,
Is nothing to a boulder to be crushed to the earth and become one again with the mud,
But how dare you question the truths of another,
How dare you question the validity of life of my brother,
How dare you attempt to entrap this beauty of mind,
How dare you attempt to envelop and deplete this beauty of mine,
The sky’s weep for those lost,
Prey for the weak, pray for the week,
When you have to count points of stars you’ve already lost,
My brutalizations are encapsulated in my experiences and memorizations of truth speak that leaves knees weak and leaves no soothe to seek.