I Die Poem by sydney conteh

I die
I die
I died when my body became a mortar round
Exploding into fragments of my
Self, that I have been collecting ever since
Shards sharp as the way you cut
My identity out of my non-consenting body
Abused it deforming it to an image that fitted
your taste


Paste it back in me, walked away
as if I do not have to remove
The works your hands have caused


Spending years mending the effects of your hands
Questioning everyone who looks
Like you, as they may hide their knives beneath their words


I die
I die
I died when you tried to use your skin tone to
Engulf my voice to a whisper
When you tried to limit my space
Until the act of breathing was unacceptable


Being black and women
Is the act of dying many times
Yet I rise stronger