Hands And Pillars Of Sand Poem by Nika McGuin

I: Hands

In the same breath
we two desperate black girls
last-minute haggling
over justice, practically begging
with money in hand
yet, we can not buy
I daresay,
it is not our dollar bills
which are curse'd in their eyes
but alas, our hands

II: Pillars of Sand

And in the same breath
our woeful black boys
like us, but worse off still
are struggling, reaching out
continuously failing to gain
equality, or even respect
they do graduate from college
build pillars out of grime, and dirt, and sand
but in the back of their minds
there is a voice that whispers, always
urgently, and full of anxiety:
speak 'properly, ' cut your hair ultra low,
dress like them, and blend in
maybe they won't notice
the pigment of your skin
oh, but most of all don't ever let your mask slip
because all it takes is one misstep
for the pillar to collapse,
as easily as a sandcastle
whisked away by the smallest of waves
it becomes dirt once more
and despite your many accolades
all you are to them
is a monkey, and a thug

~Nika