Ah,
what is hate?
It is the chain disguised as law,
the whip dressed as justice,
the badge that protects some while hunting others,
the gavel that falls uneven on skin.
What is hate?
It is the classroom that signs our history,
the job denied before the interview,
the name judged before the handshake,
the accent mocked before the word is heard.
What is hate?
It is the stereotype that paints us as criminals,
the headline that twists
us into fear,
the store clerk's eyes that follows our footsteps,
the purse clutched tighter
as we pass.
What is hate?
It's the hooded knight of the lynching of trees,
the burning
cross in the yard,
the red lines drawing through neighborhood,
the policy that cages us in
poverty.
What is hate?
It's the silence who benefits,
the laughter at our pain,
the wall
built to keep us in,
the door slammed when we demand to be let in.
What is hate?
It's
the wound carried by our mothers,
the burden borne on our fathers,
the terrors of our daughters,
the stolen futures of our sons.
And yet,
we rise beyond the land.
So we are told.
We march
beyond the bullets.
So we are told.
We sing beyond the silence.
So we are told.
We dream
beyond the chains.
So we are told.
For hate is strong,
but love, truth, and justice are still stronger.
So we are told.