They would’ve killed me for what I do now.
the knowledge of the Bible
read, both in person
and on paper
with ink being
the same color as blood
before the fire of oxygen
hits it–
They would’ve killed me for what I do now.
Tongue cut out
hung from trees
as a warning–
as the barbaric English forced
On my ancestors
but demands your English
Be my first language.
When I first was able
to communicate pain
Or how I call my mother
how I wait for my father
it is always been words
that have kept me,
Yet at the same time
I have kept them–
I have grasp them
hold them tightly in
my dominant right hand–
subduing the same language
which has always yielded
strange fruit.
They would have killed me for what I do now.
-JBHarris, August 2022
I Breathe Fire 