--One by one
they throw the bodies in.
Never looking over the ironclad money built towers
to see the faces.
An old auntie once told me that if they come for them,
they'll come for us
cause they always come.
When they fear the tides of change-
that KKKKKRAACK! from Oya's whip-
they'll come.
Where they fear the magic of the she-
whether gifted or crafted,
earth made or self made,
they'll come.
When they hear the roars of the mother languages of homelands they'll never know,
they'll come.
When they see who carries the people-
the tired, the lost, the dark, the foreign, the dwellers inbetween,
they'll come.
When they wonder how to steal our essence and kill our life to sell,
they'll come.
When they see the cloaks of those who sing love songs to God(e)
with "Inshallah"
best believe they'll come.
And when they do,
it will be under the guise of salvation.
The mask of greatness.
The cancer of whiteness on high alert of the fear of no longer
knowing what home looks like
cause they done forgot to praise their ancestors the first time around
so they make sure to kill ours.
They'll come when their frightened.
But they'll come for them first.
They'll come for your brother miles away.
Then they'll come for your school teacher.
Then they'll come for your neighbor.
But by then, after the bodies are thrown in
You know you will be next.
And then you'll wonder how you ever forgot that they'll always come.