POEM #3
by Catrice Greer
I count 16 of em
no wayminnit might be 20
lemme think …'what they doin’?
it’s cold out here
how many different ways can i say it.
People be treating us like we dugs.
Put your hands up
that’s the hype thing to say, until
its you and a gun and then what?
Can’t nobody fly up outta here like some
Icarus. this ain’t a fairytale mythological story
We live here.
I count 18 of em
maybe 20, from round the way,
i know her and him and all of 'em
mannnn e'rybody is here.
Wayminnit, I know her
that’s that girl, umm, what’s her name?
what’s she doing? singing? crying?
Damn! Everybody is here and this is serious.
it’s cold out here.
how many different ways can I say it.
hands up, joy up, crying, singing, silent
every body Black
did I count myself in?
Who am I when the time comes
for me to rise up?
— I’m ready for this
I see in you what I see in me
Freedom
freedom worth fighting for.