At the Edge IV by Scharjeel Sarfaraz. Image courtesy of ArtChowk Gallery.
In Tupelo Mississippi
my fiancee and I see
three confederate flags. Water
of course is wet. A few weeks
prior to this trip she embraces me,
crying, asking me not to leave
the house. I do not oblige her. Water
after all is still wet. A few weeks prior
to this trip another black man
lays there, dead, shot in the street
by the police. And another. And
another. I have grown numb to it
all at this point. We are passing
through Indiana on the way back
and there is a tornado touching down.
I feel safer, less on edge. Know the cop
cars aren’t gonna come for us now. I wish
every day was a tornado watch. Water is still wet
in this equation and America is still
America. Which is to say that if America,
just as racist as it has ever been,
elects a bigot in the fall I won’t be
surprised in the slightest. This week
while driving for Uber I picked up
three cops who bragged about dating
underaged women and yet another
black man was shot in the street. Water is wet
and I am flooded with emotion. Every week
I am reminded of how my presence isn’t wanted
in my own home country and I have to swallow
that truth like a glass of water. I gulp it down
and nearly suffocate every time. I wish every week
there were tornadoes touching down, hurling
squad cars left and right just so we could feel safer
for once. I wish there were storms brewing for all
the racists present and we could just speed on
through it, just fast forward to the future
where this country isn’t bigoted. But that tomorrow
never comes. Water is still wet. America is still
America. There will still be people who view
my life as threat before gunmen, or cops. The police
will still function for the sole purpose of hunting
us black people. In Tupelo Mississippi, we celebrated
a wedding, despite it all. We found joy despite it all,
and in Memphis Tennessee me and my sister reunited. We
celebrated this reunion despite it all. We will celebrate
despite it all because they can’t take our joy from us
while we still have it. Water may be wet but the music
stays fine enough to dance to and we gonna keep on dancing
until the rug is cut and our feet are falling off our ankles.
~ Deonte Osayande
Deonte Osayande is a former track and field sprinter turned writer from Detroit, Michigan. He writes nonfiction essays and his poems have been nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology, a Pushcart Prize and published in numerous publications. He has represented Detroit at multiple National Poetry Slam competitions. He’s currently a professor of English at Wayne County Community College, and teaching youth through the Inside Out Detroit Literary Arts Program.
