What is this heaviness that weighs on you?

The heaviness that weighs on you weighs on me too.

I am, because we are, Ubuntu.

Is it the heaviness of Ahmaud, of Sandra, of Breonna, or Amadou?

Is it the heaviness of Emmett of Mamie?

Is it the heaviness of Eric, the heaviness of Erica?

Is it the heaviness of Martin, of Malcolm, of Coretta or Betty?

Or is it the weight of unsolved, unpunished, or unnoticed?

Is it the weight of unfinished, unwilling, unaddressed?

Is it the weight of St. George’s, of Mother Emanuel, of 1619 or 1492?

She’s my Mother too.

Is it the cumulative weight of generations of hate?

Is it the weight of LGBTQ, of #MeToo, or #ChurchToo?

Is it the weight of the eyes that watch closely as you pass by?

Is it the car with the blue lights that slow enough to keep you in sight?

Is it the purse that is clutched, the whisper, the unnatural hush?

What is this heaviness that weighs on you?

The heaviness that weighs on you weighs on #MeToo.

I am, because we are, Ubuntu.

Is it the weight of “calves like cantaloupes”? 

Is it the weight of “good people on both sides”?

Or is it the weight of “the China Virus,” the “Hong Kong or Spanish Flu”?

If #BlackLivesMatter, and #BlueLivesMatter, and #AllLivesMatter

Then you should feel my heaviness too.

You, too, could speak up, speak out, act up, and act out.

Eric can’t speak, George can’t speak…

Though they can’t speak, their blood cries out from the ground.

With the weight of a choke hold and the heaviness of a knee they said, “I can’t breathe.”

This is the heaviness I feel. I Can’t Breathe…” Can you?

Ubuntu!

By Christopher Pierson  A© 2020-2024