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some people want to be on the scene

to be seen.

but to be unseen, yet visible,

is miserable.

the anonymous no-body …

who is everything but anonymous.

yet in fact, this how we sometimes sum up

what it means to be black, Jack.

always in the background – even when in the foreground.

cast into the shadow at the suns highest height – like Michael Brown.

you always think it can’t happen to you …

until it happens to you.

until those guns start clapping at you.

no applause – no just cause – just because.

… and you still remain unseen …

in these everyday scenes of the American Dream.

I mean I don’t profess to know everything,

or anything …

we’re all grasping at invisible strings

when trying to figure a cure for this psychological terror.

it really doesn’t matter who’s the prez

black and brown still end up dead.

and when you’re on the rez …

your suffering really is unseen …

no scene

no spectacle to create a receptacle for understanding.

historical, ongoing, trauma.

but, here’s the stick …

or the knife in the back.

though the suffering is upfront

we still lay in the back.

always the shadow, never the window.