As February comes to a close,
Making way for the coming of spring
I want you to sing of the dead
Black boys and black girls.
Gospel and grace holds space for their names
Their pain our pain forever ingrained
In our hearts, our days, our future
Untouched by their feet.
Because Black lives always matter.
February or October, the month we pretend
To know and care and share.
It’s like only loving your spouse
On Valentine’s Day. Does that make sense?
Why only love black lives in the months
You’re told to? No.
Black lives always matter.
My unborn, un-conceived son’s life
The most beautiful man in the world –
My grandfather – his life
My fiance, my brother, my mother, my nan,
My uncle, my aunties, my counsins, my nephew
They matter. They matter. They matter.
All the names we don’t know –
All the names we do know –
Never forget to celebrate and speak
And shout and clap
And stand and kneel
And cry and cry and cry
Because Black lives – ALWAYS – Matter.
In Winter, spring, summer and fall
Celebrate them all and mourn them all
Not when one is dead.
Not when one is president.
Not when your sister dates one.
Always. Always. Always.