When it cracks

They say that Black
don’t crack.

But it can be
apt to warp
and atrophy

sometimes folding
against a weight
it cannot consecrate.

That unmitigating hate
comprised and seen
through lies
that seamlessly malign
and surmised by eyes
that can never
endeavor to be
refined.

Having the audacity
to wield hope.
As that trophy –
in affirmation
that this skin
ain’t no sin.

If you are trying to convince me
that I am less than

that my friend
will never stand.

In the shadows of giants, Frederick Douglass.

Copyright © 2022 ShunPwrites. All Rights Reserved

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