We don't have to watch as a white man
reminds us of the way that history is circular
like a chain that won't break unless we learn
to cut everyone's hands free, first
the sound of a lantern being lit,
the crackling of kerosine
to drag men, women, children
down dark, narrow passageways
of time, second
the sound of a torch being lit
to light up the ugliness that hides
in the shadows, no
it wasn't in this order but it has been this
way all along, no
time passes between the passageways from
hatred to oppression to violence to
death, no
it has been this way all along.
I fall in love with a man
who calls ugliness out by name,
who isn't afraid of the confrontation.
We decide together that this hill,
the one that people have been trying
to climb for centuries,
this is our hill to die on.