for Cyrus (Black children deserve to grow up)
i know you walked into that store
thirsty
instead
you were marked in their eyes
by your Brown skin
i saw you
open the door to the cooler
hesitate
and
put the water bottles
back
one by one by one by one
maybe
you felt her glare piercing
or
perhaps your knowing told you to
leave
i saw you trust it
but
they did not trust you
now
your body lies cold in the ground
i hope they buried you near the water
you left
thirsty
you died
Black
and now your mother’s tears
water
freshly turned earth
18 thoughts on "for Cyrus (Black children deserve to grow up)"
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Powerful. I love how you keep the water in every stanza. “you left/thirsty/you died/Black” punched me hard and then I had to keep going to those last three lines.
I love the capitalized “Black” while even leaving the word “i” lowercase. This is so beautifully paced, it conveys that awful feeling of being watched, assessed, and ultimately completely misjudged. Thank you for sharing this 🙏
Powerful, meaningful poem!
Came here to say almost exactly what Sarah did above.
Wow. So direct. So real. Thank you.
this piece would be great on recording or a mic. “i hope they buried you near the water” chills.
Gripping poem. Makes my blood boil.
oh samar! there you are. my god. my god.
I deeply appreciate the sparse use of words.
Use of only those that carry weight, anchor the reader to the pain and injustice, speak to the thirst for a simple necessity and clearly defines the inequality of systematic racism.
Wow. Yes! Power!
Thank you for this poem. These names and stories we must not forget.
So powerful.
The way you’ve pulled the water image through from the scene in the store by the cooler to the mother’s tears–I was right there, Heartbreaking real.
Thank you.
I cry with the mother. Love the last line.
I feel every part of this, the ache of how familiar this story is. Thank you for your words and presence.
This southern gothic reveals a terrible reality. I can feel the strain on the mother’s heart, too.
I am sorry for those I can’t forgive for this tragedy…
“I know” “I saw” “maybe” powers us through this unconscionable treatment and heartbreaking end. I am angered and sorrow-filled.
I keep coming back to your poems; they are so powerful.