Poem for the White Lady Who Couldn’t Stop Watching Me

What if I suddenly

took off running

like I forgot about

my black skin & imagined

I could simply exist

without always remembering

that my most deadly weapon

is the color of my skin

What if I decided that today

I will not engage in

self-erasure to make you

comfortable in your skin

that I will not concern myself

with existing in your imagination

while living in my own skin

What if I had chosen to

take off running trying to escape

the prison you’ve kept me in

locked into the judgments

you placed on me because of my

skin color? What if I had chosen

to run? Would I be alive today

to write this poem? Or would

my family be struggling beneath

headlines that read:

Future Felon Shot While Fleeing

Violent Criminal Shot While Running

Suspected Robber Killed Trying to Flee Scene

What if I suddenly

took off running?

Peace & Love,

Rosalind