Dear Colin - by hakim bellamy

When Mike's mother
knelt for ours...
hours after his judgement
in the middle of a Ferguson street
no one called her "unpatriotic."

In fact, she paid the ultimate price.
292 lbs of flesh.

Both knees planted,
like her face,
in the flooding of her palms
bent over at the asphalt shoreline
of her child.

Baptized in a river of what's left of him.

No F-16 flyover.
Just the ghetto bird's familiar ellipses...
The fireworks, we never see coming.
That persistent, unmistakable smell of gunpowder;

a constant reminder
that it
just missed us.

At least the 21 gun salute
on arrival, is familiar.
Footballs and cannonballs
hurled across the same battlefields.

Whether we are poolside casket
or nose bleed arena,
allegiance is generally
the greatest expectation.

When we hear "please stand"
we're supposed to say "how high?"

And when coach says "run"
you've always taken that to mean
"for your life."

But my "Dear Colin"
we grew up being told
that dying for our country
is the most patriotic thing we can do.

In fact, we were even told that our ancestors were dying to do it...

And now,
an entire generation of star spangled fists
can't seem to understand
why this company, our company,
of unarmed Black men
dying in service of the American Dream...

has you feeling less,
and less than red, white
and blue...

less than human.

So they persecute you
because you refuse to salute empire.
Instead acknowledge your God
on bended knee,

knowing full well that
the last time a 30-something
claimed "King"
other than Caesar
they hung him from more
than his jersey.

But this war
is different. It is neither gridiron
nor Grenada.

It is "their" occupation
versus your occupation.

It is equal parts "standoff"
and sit in.

It is you telling
American Football
and the American public
on the most American Day of the week
that although Black bodies
were once rendered property
this soul
has no price.

Dear Colin,
You and I both know,
that had your iQ and 40 yard dash
been a second "slower"
you'd be a cadet instead of a quarterback.

That conscientious objector
is slur for commie.

That as the flag waves
you kneel, because you've already said your goodbyes,
but the trolls remind you
that you will never be able to duck your Black ass
out of the crosshairs of this
police
line up.

That in a country
where any cowboy can be President
they aught to know
that the most effective way
to break a thoroughbred is
through trust
as opposed to fear.

But even the most wealthy nation
in history can't afford "the breaking"
of chattel that will never be fit
for this track.

Never forget
that it was Americans
who made us kneel for fun, and now
make fun of you
for kneeling for freedom.

Amongst the backdrop
of what some would consider "a gang"
of athletes,
and for the first time
in your professional career as a Black man

you have successfully demonstrated

that we don’t all look alike.

Bowing in a field full of phillies,
sticking out
like a sore loser.

You. Now
the individual, and them
now the mob.

Both angry.
Both not forgetting.

In fact,
Those who love you least
wear your poster
on their bedroom wall.

To ensure
that they recognize you,
should they ever catch you standing
alone.

© Hakim Bellamy October 26, 2016