I do not share the color of your skin
I live far from your valleys.
Though there are valleys of my own,
myself adorned in golden fetters,
yours wrap around your throat, rusted and tighter
than all the ones I will ever know.
It is a sin that I cannot throw off my chains
before yours. It feels just
that I will not. As your vise
grows ever bloodier, my shackles rattle on my wrists
To remind me of your crushing burden,
a weight that I will not carry, cannot share.
I weep for you, but that salt
cannot dissolve your irons.
I weep for you. Helpless so, I weep for you.