Editor’s Note: Welcome to National Poetry Month. Twice each week in April, KQED Arts & Culture will present a poem by a Bay Area poet. This series is curated by Rightnowish host Pendarvis Harshaw, who also speaks with each poet about their work.
“My Soul,” by Kyrah A. Ayers
My soul
Is tolled with knowing
As my sons get older
That their lives are valued less
As they inherit our mess
My shoulders weighed down
With the task
Of explaining that English, Science and Math
Are not the only tools they need to survive
For black men to stay alive
We have to appear non-threatening
Grin through every sock to the chin
And send Thank You cards to the assailant
Be stronger, but appear weaker
Be smarter, but be the listener and not the speaker
Even when the speaker’s wrong
Hold your tongue
Master the language
Of the corporate world and where you’re from
I’m raising sons
In a world that’s seen a Raisin In The Sun
Numb to the fact that gun control
Only applies to the victims
Reactions based on fear
Appear justified
It’s clear that as my sons prepare for college
They may meet campus police
Overzealous and partly jealous that they’re obtaining degrees
Scared of what they can’t imagine
Keeps his hand near his piece
My son could die on the way to a study group
While the murderer is released
In self-defense
My head is heavy today
But I must walk tall
Because small minds
Devalue what they can’t find
As useful to their own kind
The truth is often combined with perspective
But there’s no rewind
When bullets fly and sons lie
On concrete for hours
No chalk outline is necessary
We see him; we all see him!
Some have the luxury of living through mistakes
Not my sons
Born with two strikes
In a world where we lose rights
Like car keys, or five dollars at the craps table
Go ahead and roll the dice
We play odds and think twice
Through forced smiles
Absorbing pain from cop car lights
Internalize it and ignites
A flame within us
Sparked by a fear of being out too late at night
Driving while black, naw you don’t understand the plight
Ever been pulled over three times in a week
And issued warning after warning
How do I warn my sons so their mother isn’t mourning
So that they’re still alive in the morning
And still not be ashamed of the skin they’re born in
What a fight…
My soul
Is tolled with knowing
As my sons get older
That their lives are valued less
As they inherit our mess
May the souls of the lives we’ve lost… rest
Pendarvis Harshaw: Was there a specific instance that inspired this piece?
Kyrah Ayers: This piece was written in 2020 after the murder of George Floyd. Like many people, this was based on mounting frustrations after the loss of too many black people under similar circumstances. It’s difficult being a father and raise kids in love while watching so many injustices occur to people who look just like us.
What has been the response from this piece?
This piece has been well received for the most part. Many tears, some of them mine, have been shed. We’re all fed up with these injustices.
The Bay Area has a long history of well-known poets. What does it mean to be a part of this legacy?
I’m honored to be a part of this legacy. I started writing at age 11 as a creative outlet. I didn’t start sharing my poetry until ten years later. In 2008 I founded a poetry show called “Poetry By The Bay” in Vallejo, which grew to become the largest and longest running poetry show in Solano County. Recently I’ve been blessed to start another show called “The Revival” which takes place once a month in downtown Oakland inside of my wife & I’s store, Queen Hippie Gypsy. It’s hosted by the incomparable Bri Blue. The next show is on April 17, where we will honor National Poetry Month and are excited to feature the phenomenal work of Darling Tiara.
For more details on Kyrah A. Ayers and the poetry series ‘The Revival,’ see here.
