You Still Dream

Here, poem meets prayer.
We are exceedingly comfortable
with posturing and self-defense
that masquerade as apology.
But what’s needed in this moment
is unmixed confession
of our nation’s sin,
deep and indefensible.
“Now I lay me down to sleep”
must make way for
something more muscular:
sack cloth and ashes,
prayer and fasting,
naked prostration.
Daniel understood
radical repentance begins
with this unvarnished profession:
You are righteous,
and we are not.
Please heal our nation.
Cleanse our stubborn hearts.
Show each of us what part to play.
Broken as Judah and Jerusalem,
we cry and come bending our will
toward the good
you dream for us still,
no matter our sin,
no matter what skin
we’re in.

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“Confession is the first step towards meaningful change, but when it comes to the sin of racism, many Americans skip this all-important step and jump straight to a pious posture of prayer for the nation. I believe absolutely in the power of prayer, but not when it’s hollow. This poem is a response to that hollowness.”
—Nikki Grimes

Black Lives Matter Anthology

“I called out his name
and he spun like a dancer, candy bar in hand,
looked at me quizzically for a moment before
remembering my face.”

—“I saw Emmett Till this week at the grocery store” by Eve L. Ewing