I don’t see race, but I feel it
Crawling down my skin
As the glance declares I’m sin
I don’t see race, but I fear it
Coming for me in the middle of the night
Armed with the sharp unforgiving
Edges of the questions aimed at me
Asking how I managed to keep my
Head buried in the sand for so long
While those on the surface
Were the ones suffocating for lack of air
And lack of ear
I don’t see race but I suspect it sees me
Feasting on my privilege
Barely leaving a scrap behind
For the ruthless to devour
Or maybe just the Ruth
Longing for just enough to get her
Through another cold and lonely night
I don’t see race but I run it
Or perhaps run from it
As seeing it might be far too
Painful or risky
For my precious comfort to bear
I don’t see race
But if I play with the letters for long enough
There is no doubt I will land on ‘CARE’
Rather than caring about the ‘ACRE’ of land
Which was never mine to inherit in the first place
I don’t see race
But does this mean that I somehow don’t see you
Blending into the rainbow
If I can just agree to see everyone the same
Then surely all of my work is already done?
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