Poem Of The Day: The Window Speaks

This poem, The Window Speaks, reflects upon #BlackLivesMatter, #JusticeForGeorgeFloyd and the current state of America.

Black Lives Matter
Photo: Richard Anthony Policastro

You haven’t shattered me fully. But I am tired. So tired.


No one hears my soliloquy of flashlight eyes

you are inside, breaking bread

you are alone, your strands swept up into a safe cocoon


I hear you yell at the TV “Ugh, this prejudice has to end!”

while your knees are pressing the couch

hindlegs hiding in hair—where is your real fire?



slapped me with saltwater on slave ships,

but I still say his name at sunrise when I wake up gasping EMMETT


Rearrange his letters into streaked fingerprints—“meet” me

on the other side, Emmett, give George Floyd his mother’s warmth and a pillow for his neck,

I, too, can’t move, I am stained black and blue


I have always been stained, glass refrained

from comment. Refrained from action.

Contained in this “house” because they said we shouldn’t talk about uncomfortable things


I am unlearning and relearning history.

This is racism&police brutality we throw in a skillet

like it’s lunch on a Sunday, we need to call it on the menu what it really is = murder


and yes, I was the one who saw Langston Hughes

sent to the kitchen as the darker brother

in a house where there was only gesture and a name and silence


I feel hot. Like Ahmaud Arbery. Trayvon Martin. Tamir Rice. Freddie Gray. Eric Garner.

Maybe you don’t have a temperature, but acknowledge that “I see no color” is the problem because color exists; we created it.


When I can’t fall asleep at night I remember

the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing. I exploded

with those four little girls. I exploded for the entire world.


Some days I live inside Lincoln. Remind him he certainly didn’t get it all right.

I look out his gray pupils and can’t breathe.

I whisper in his ear that there are still shadows on these steps


and the microphone of MLK Jr is ringing “a riot is the language

of the unheard.” I’m listening.

Amanda Dettmann


Amanda is an avid traveler who calls Maine her home, but her favorite places include Amsterdam's Christmas markets and Shakespeare's Globe in London. She is passionate about poetry, theatre, and teaching writing to kids and adults with disabilities. She thinks the best part of traveling is hearing strangers' incredible stories. Her ultimate mission? To find the tastiest cappuccino in the world.

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