"To The Boxer" by Najib Abbi

Dear Boxer,

I don’t know the last time we talked,

I just pray you’re standing tall,

After all the things you’ve lost,

After everything they took from you,

I pray you kept your peace,

And stayed away from the traps,

They keep setting in these streets,

I pray you found a way to live

When your brothers were in chains,

And the world looked at you differently,

Because you shared a name,

I pray your head was held high,

When they painted you in blame,

And they tried to bury you,

Beneath another man’s mistakes,

And when their bullets took your brother,

I didn’t know what I could say,

And so I said nothing at all to you,

I turned to God and prayed,

I prayed his soul made it to heaven,

I prayed noor lit up his grave,

I prayed that God protects you all,

And gives you patience in your pain,

I prayed the fires of revenge,

Didn’t burn you to the ground,

Death demands a pound of flesh,

But it takes far more than a pound,

And bullets don’t unshoot themselves,

And rain won’t go back to the clouds,

But I don’t have any advice,

Sometimes it’s like there’s no way out,

Sometimes their cage is too strong,

And their borders too bold,

And your screams don’t mean much,

Sometimes it’s out of your control,

Sometimes, no move is left for someone,

Once their country wants them dead,

Just ask Ramona Africa,

How Philadelphia was red,

Ask her how they bombed her family,

Once they labeled them a threat,

How to this day they hope a bullet,

Finds its way into her head,

And when we came here,

We came intent to find a better life,

But this place wants nothing for us,

But our hearts to find a knife,

They want our freedom in their palms,

And our people in their jails,

And our bodies full of poison,

And our minds weak and frail,

And our pennies in their pockets,

And our energy for sale,

And our time occupied,

And then we say the system failed,

But the system didn’t fail,

It works the way that it was meant,

They give us streets and we have seeds,

But roses don’t grow in cement,

And even if one does,

They say its stem is too broken and bent,

No matter what we do,

Their system is forever discontent,

And every dollar that we earn,

Makes another country burn,

And they scream and we scream,

And yet our voices aren’t heard,

And children drown in hellfire,

I swear it makes my stomach turn,

And I’m reminded of a lesson,

That I know you’ve had to learn,

The Earth we’re living on is broken,

Maybe far beyond repair,

And they will take and take from you,

Until there’s nothing left to spare,

And when their boot is on your neck,

And you’re struggling to breathe,

They’ll look you right into your eyes,

And trade their boot out for their knee,

And dear boxer, I write to you,

Because I know you’re one to fight,

And home has never shown you mercy,

Not a day in your whole life,

I’d like to think you’re fighting,

While our world goes up in flames,

And I guess I write to you,

Because I hope to do the same