By. J.R. Rudolph
Buffalo
Stop.
The screams begin from the corner of my eye,
falling and calling out towards the savior of day and night.
Crawl and fall and the might of another call.
All the targets. Made.
All the agents. Paid.
To turn the page on a chapter of our history.
Our legacy, you sent home to his family.
Our people you pledged to protect,
and yet you protect those who dwindle and diminish our flames.
Caught up in all the shames, blames, and games.
When will we come around and figure out who to claim?
We are here,
We are called,
We are talented,
We are quick-witted,
We are kind,
We are strong,
We are brave,
We are not;
Seen.
Heard.
You.
Your violence will not silence our hearts.
We carry tomorrow inside our chests,
a pulse that refuses to break.
We speak for the ones who could not,
we rise for the ones you tried to erase.
Buffalo is not only a wound—
it is a drumbeat,
a warning,
a promise.
We will turn grief into power,
memory into movement,
silence into song.
And you will see us.
And you will hear us.
Because we are still here.
How You See Me
Now you see me—
now you don’t.
Wow—how the tides
swiftly turn
on a colored boy like me.
You say you heal me—
but you won’t,
leaving me bleeding,
alone, unseen.
You call me a friend,
then break me down,
degrade me
before the curtain falls.
How can I learn
from this cruel new trend?
No—
it’s time for me to amend.
I’ll lead the light
in a new direction,
waiting for the day
I’m not corrected,
not diminished,
not dismissed.
You saw me fight,
you saw me fall,
yet I rose—
while you locked us up
on nothing but a thought.
Kicked around,
dragged through town,
up and down—
but never broken,
never touching the ground.
Cuz when you see me—
I won’t.
Not to please you,
not to tease you,
not to be you—
I don’t.
I breathe free,
in the light of day,
finding a way—
a place to stay.
Now you see me—
now you don’t.
Wow—how the tides
swiftly turned
on a colored boy…
like me.
Roots and Wings
People will be people, that is what they’ll be.
A family will be a family that stands as strong as a tree.
Friends will be friends that always trust each other,
But who would I be? I will find ways to be me.
A family, like branches, reaching toward the sky,
Roots deep in the earth, where love will never die.
Through storms and seasons, they stand side by side,
Their strength is in unity, their hearts open wide.
Friends, like leaves, fluttering in the breeze,
Offering comfort, bringing hearts at ease.
In laughter and sorrow, they share the ride,
Their bond is a treasure, a love they can’t hide.
But I, like a seed, planted in the ground,
Seeking my purpose, where it’s to be found.
Through trials and triumphs, I will grow tall,
Discovering myself, embracing it all.
For in the tapestry of life, each thread unique,
I will weave my story, my voice will speak.
People will be people, family, and friends,
But I will be me, until the very end.
Brufay 