Dreaming. Walking. Running.
Falling. Running. Dreaming.
Then, I feel the bump as racism steps into me, the blood dripping as racism clips my heel but never my wings.
Back on track, I learned that I must run both looking to the left and the right and always over my shoulder.
*** Racism is still real. These are the silent words of those affected. Written in response to the “Fifty” Writing challenge.***