We Are Remarkably Loud Not Masked

By Juan Felipe Herrera
young Jesse Washington —
                                  even though you     on the wooden stick
cross of fire bitten charred cut & burned        5 minute jury
April 15, 1916    Waco, Texas shackled & dragged — lynched
                                                You live on
 
                                                                Trayvon Martin face down
red juice on the lawn clutching candy rushing home
the hoodie the hoodie the prowler shooter said
upside down shredded night
 
                                                                              because of you     you
 
we march touch hands lean back leap forth
against the melancholy face of tanks & militia    we move
                                                              walk become
we become           somehow
                 
Eric Garner we scribble your name sip your breath    now
               our breath cannot be choked off our
skin cannot be flamed      totality
                                      cannot be cut off
each wrist
each bone
cannot be chained to the abyss
               gnashing levers & polished
                                   killer sheets of steel

we are remarkably loud not masked
                rough river colors that cannot be threaded back
 
hear us
Freddie Gray here                                         with us
 
                                          Jesse Washington Trayvon Martin
Michael Brown the Black Body holy
    Eric Garner  all breath Holy
we weep & sing
as we write
                             as we mobilize & march
                                  under the jubilant solar face
 

Copyright Credit: Juan Felipe Herrera, "We Are Remarkably Loud Not Masked" from Notes on the Assemblage. Copyright © 2015 by Juan Felipe Herrera.  Reprinted by permission of City Lights Books, www.citylights.com.
Source: Notes on the Assemblage (City Lights Books, 2015)