#BlackPoetsSpeakOut : I Am Tired of Mourning Our Dead

by Memoirs Of A Dead Woman

My name is N.I. Nicholson, and I am a black poet. I will not sit by silently while black people are being murdered. And I have a right to be angry.

I have reposted this from the blog on which it originally appeared, Raven’s Wing Poetry.

For other black poets reading selections as part of #BlackPoetsSpeakOut, see here:


I Am Tired of Mourning Our Dead

while words clump together
dam up my throat like
dead black bodies

we feel our strangled necks:
the strange feeling
the nooses never left

don’t explain
our dead children away
we know

reasons drip
rotting, strange fruit
swaying in a sour wind

invisible hands
count our blood drop coins
we count bullets

stolen breaths
murderers walking free
your justifications

will not feed our babies
sing them to sleep will not
bring them back alive

will not strip away
the price tag stamped
on my forehead

lest you think you’re free
reach up tune in
your numb fingertips

rub away your privilege
feel the dollar sign brand
seared into your forehead

and tell me
hashtag all lives matter
how about hashtag


Written 11/28/14
© 2014 N.I. Nicholson. All rights reserved.