Trees (One of the few times I use the N-Word these days) (2014-2015)

See them reaching for the sky
Still figures.
They still say them niggers
Wind or breeze niggas
Some want to hold hands, but
Branches won’t connect.
Leaning, about to fall over,
It is an imbalance between the seen and
Unseen – it is the roots.
Father leaves.
The skin many see as chocolate
Becomes wrinkled, gray and forgotten
Oh, sweet hick’ry –
A merry go round of history