So long as hate brews in the hearts of black brothers
Who have had their manhood defined by gun shots
And blood gashing out of open wounds
With tear drops impersonating the symphony of people's cries
I will write about love in its true form.
You know the kind that prison inmates sing about
While tears remain frozen in the eyes of their newest member,
The kind of love that has no room for regrets
And its heavy baggage of “what ifs” and “should haves”.
The kind that lets you eat without knowing what was cooked,
The kind that lets you weave a sentence in absolute silence,
The kind that lets you see rainbows in a distant horizon just before the storm starts.
Love in its true form,
Not Romeo and Juliet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem