Please do not touch the art

Please do not touch the art
Do not touch where love has torn the rails off of me like a storm
Do not touch where blades have sculpted my pain into silence
Do not touch where I have tensed muscles and cracking bone
Do not touch the art
Do not touch where intellectuals have failed to tell me exactly what has broken down my body into categories of self hate
Do not touch my face
It has had more passion pass through it than a life time has to bare. 
Do not touch my arms
They have held more bodies and quieted more pain than hospital beds
Do not touch my legs
I have ran for far too long
Do not touch my hips
They move for only the beat of drums and the hearts of my people
Do not touch my ears
I’ve heard the cries of mothers,fathers, sisters, and brothers as they hold signs hoping that not one more of ours makes it on the news riddled with bullets
Do not touch my shoulders
My ancestors rest there
DO NOT TOUCH MY HAIR
My crown of dark clouds. Curling to the sky like train smoke. 
Please do not touch the art
It is not here for you.

 

by Nahari Reed

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Eileen Wu