Last night we walked
Over the Brooklyn Bridge
To Foley Square.
We stood, packed
In front of mourning mothers
Repeating their words to let others hear.
Singing and chanting too.
To the ferry, walking and shouting together:
I can't breathe
Our streets, your racism.
When we took the highway,
We took it good.
Like flanks, we spread over 8 lanes.
Car honks and fist pumps from drivers
And the white, bright light of
And briefly tattooing the pavement with
Silhouettes of signs and words:
Black Lives Matter.
We met with police
But moved around them like
Ocean currents, like lava, like gusts of wind.
Like all the other things you can't stop just by standing and refusing to change
Taking streets and sidewalks
Avenues and highways
Midtown and downtown
We walked into the next day.
Everything was still the same;
Still no justice.
For the sore throats from shouted words and
Sore feet from miles walked and
An overwhelming awareness
That shit is not right
From when we walked last night.