After the desecration of my loved one’s workplace with graffiti calling them a nigger.

Jordan Stark

Preyer 

To the “nigger” scribbler
scrambling in the dark,
spooked by the rise of we hell-‘scaped haunts
     loosed from and moving beyond calumny: 

Heed our howling laughter, the looming taunts
we shriek between unfurled teeth,
the primal refrains we release as yet un-tamed beasts who‘ve consumed their poor, meek master playing this Most Dangerous Game.

Hear us in our jubilee, singing, ev’ry voice screaming
     of reaping and soon-to-be raptures,
     of ringing heaven and earth, both now and hereafter,
     in a key tuned to raise spirits from their sunk in place cadavers.
     We creep in a cadence fueled by dark past disaster.
     Faster, we march, faster to the thunderous clatter of drums booming of imminent victory.

Fear our tribe’s mumbles to the listening skies!
Our mumbo jumbo shifts the tides and gives us rise
‘til we swell to the size of your hatred;
inflated by your dark, jaded fantasy to 45 times the size we were made and meant to be,
we prowl to the base of your Empire State
and ape up the scaffolding to its peak,
but rather than reaching for your lily-likened, white, and frightened damsel, we
swing and swing like a simian king,
thrust ourselves high in the sky,
grasp the heavenly precipice of the Most High’s floating abode,
and we enter 

with all the ease and happiness of returning home,
as though we wore halo rings and cherub wings,
we breeze past the gated picket fence of your ethereal imaginings
to commune
with The Almighty ‘pon his thrown.
And as you see us
beaming our devilish Black grins
down from the empyrean crown
onto your imperious, incredulous brow,
you mistake our visitation
with your holy White Light of Creation
for sacrilegious miscegenation
tainting the hue of the clouds,
which to you appear now blacker, threatening, and wild; 

may you be abased in shame and trepidation as holy showers scour
the arrogance and entitlement from your dismayed face,
and remove the residue of resentment from your disbelieving pupils,
cleansing the lens that paints your misconstruals
so that you may see us anew,
chopping it up with the Father as only his children could do,
realigning the stars, sun, and moon to cosmically induce compassion in you
so that you’ll cease your bigotry and hate-filled remarks
and see us,
finally,
through our hue and to our humanity,
despite your fear of the dark

Jordan Starck lives in Philadelphia and studies race, bias, and interventions for social change. He also teaches and works with community organizations and education practitioners to mitigate racial bias and empower underrepresented groups. @JStarck4