White Silence

I figure that the average person has some notion of the term “white noise”, scientifically it’s defined as the amalgamation of every possible sound frequency being played at equal intensities

You could most recognize it when you have a fan on or if you left the TV on a channel that wasn’t broadcasting at the time

It’s the constant humming you hear that you can’t ignore, the tickle you get when you’re told that you don’t fit the stereotypical caricature of your people, that itch when they claim they’re more you than you as if based on skin color: actions, activities, and exploits become monolithic

Are you hearing what I’m saying?

Maybe not, see what I didnt mention was that when present in any environment white noise has the ability to drown out all waves on the spectrum, it’s like we’re all shouting but standing so close to get together that none of us can here one another

So on the off chance that one voice finally rises above the sound dampeners, the world goes dark, Tik-Tok voice overs go mute, the chatter from Starbucks Cafes, Whole Foods and bar scenes die, and silence becomes the forest that bonds and relationships get lost and never find there way out

See I heard you when we were bad and boujee with the Migos, I heard you when we were all savages with Meg, I heard you when Kendrick was telling us to have some humility, when Roddy Ricch stepped into the scene it was middle fingers in the air , f*ck 12 and f*ck seat, but now that’s it’s time to really stand by that sh*t and really say it with your chest

Doja Cat got your tongue...

We tried to coax you in with peaceful hymns, we tried to convince you with tranquil psalms, harmonious anthems and even that old negro spiritual, but even now, the shots that rang out and killed Martin echo louder than your own voices in support of what he stood for

I see the angle, acute perception and abject attention prove that you intend to take the rhythm without the blues, the culture without the consciousness, the color without the consequence, isn’t that some nonsense?

In your moments of silence, revere in how your held tongue was instrumental in deafening the screams of the persecuted 

I like to think I’m pretty good at reading between lines and I’ve since lost pieces of me infiltrating soft breezes, chasing errant winds and stalking the gale forces that move clouds searching for any semblance of your sound waves, and the fact that I’ve yet to find any vibrations between your syllables, are telling me all the things that I didn’t want to hear