Sneak peak from "This is 2020: a poetry collection" - available for sale on KassieJRuyan.com, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble: Check it out HERE
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The Cycle Continues
The year is 1919.
Tensions are high already.
The country angry and ready.
A young man dives into the lake
enjoying an afternoon break
when he entered an area
soon to cause hysteria.
How was he to know
they would drown him with a blow?
He received no justice.
They tell the nation "trust us."
Followed by fires and fights
as the people fought for their rights
because of a rock
thrown without a talk
and a man who died
while his mother cried.
Only because he was black
he was attacked.
The year is 1963.
A man stands up, his eyes agleam.
"I have a dream,"
He says out loud.
Around him, an emotional crowd
Not knowing that it would be repeated.
Never wanting defeated.
For years to come
it would beat like a drum.
Those four little words
united the herds
and people, convinced
the president evinced
to create equality mass
that never quite came to pass.
But did bring a hope
that would continue to scope
from father to child
even when he was profiled.
The year is 1968.
The man who spoke inspiration
that tried to unify a nation
and spent his life fighting
opening his heart and inviting
the justice and equality
while innocent of polity
for a people that were still segregated
and unfairly hated.
Yes, that man
was shot by a clansman.
Dead.
The pain as he bled
was felt around the nation,
People thrust out of their stagnation.
Their anger unfurled
as the hope left the world.
The cities erupted in pain
to come, again and again.
The year is 1992.
A man drives down the road
lights behind him glowed.
Blue and red
on the wet tire tread.
Four men against one
and the four had the guns.
They beat him bloody
and laughed with their buddies
not noticing the camera
filming their stamina.
There was no reprise
as he tried to rise.
The men were acquitted
showing they were permitted
to beat a man who is black
and for no more reason than that.
For the badge they wear
allowed them to be unfair.
The year is 2012.
He didn't have a gun
and he didn't know to run.
He pulled his hood down tight
not thinking it would cause a fight.
But a man who profiled without thought
saw black skin and though he caught
a criminal; not a boy
who wasn't out to destroy.
The man pulled out a pistol
without even a dismissal
of a kid who went for snacks
never thinking to watch his back
or that he would be shot dead
and lay on the ground as he bled.
False justice served by a man
who didn't think before he began.
he was given the power of lead
and used it because of the fear in his head.
The year is now.
He was choked to death
couldn't catch his breath.
She was asleep in her bed
when they shot her dead.
Those are only just a few
killed because of a view.
This is every year.
Fear for those you hold dear.
Death by those who one should trust
has grown from past disgust.
Racial profiling is nothing new.
When will everyone get a clue?
We need to yell
and not be quelled.
Rise up together.
March wherever.
It's time.
We're primed.
We will not be stopped
until the racism is dropped.
I wrote this poem - in the summer of 2020 when again we see this cycle continuing. We have been here before. We have had the same arguments over and over and over with the same side of people that are convinced that racism is no longer an issue or blind to the evolution of systematic racisms. The same racism that I see in my city and beyond; in the public (education, housing, services, and even transport) systems. And nothing has changed. We will be in the same moment, having the same conversations, and standing together in the same marches... two years from now unless everyone recognizes these issues and work together to speak and fight against the injustices that we see every day - socially, in person, in culture and entertainment and our lives. Be an ally. Truly. For the future of the human race.