Everything but still matter

There’s a ranger on the site whose last name is Standingwater. Standingwater. Still water. Still water. There was a small bird on the ground this quiet morning. Still morning. Still morning. There was a life taken in Louisiana– no wait Minnesota this week– no wait last week last year last century. These men were black. Why does it seem like every year the same voice has to cry that their lives matter. Still matter. Still Matter: scientifically defined as something that occupies space and has a rest mass. How long is this rest gonna be until another family is at mass crying for a dead man? How long is this rest gonna be until another parent gives the talk about navigating public space? How long were the last hugs these men gave their wives, daughters, sons? Their sons will go to parks, go to grocery stores, go to the cemetery, and go to school. But where do you go to when your country has failed you? When you were fed lies that everyone was endowed with rights? From the streets of New Haven to the streets of Los Angeles there’s an anxiety, a fear. “Never talk back.” “Always have your hands in the clear.” From the streets of Topeka to the streets of Baltimore These rules are real.   Some people wonder why spoken word is always about race. I say because it still matters. Still matters. Still Matter. We must raise our voices to have these men be everything but still matter.

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