Spoken Word: “Identify the Cry”
But you can’t identify the cry.
You saw the mugshot, but missed the moment he broke inside.
You read the charge, but skipped the chapter
Where a little boy stopped dreaming after his daddy died.
But you can’t identify the cry.
Never asked what silence shaped his soul
Or what pain made his patience fold.
He learned young that tears were weak,
So he bottled them up in fists and streaks.
You labeled him “aggressive,” but missed the signs—
He was never taught how to grieve, only how to survive.
But you can’t identify the cry.
You see what he did, but not what he needed.
Blame came quick, but compassion was depleted.
What mirror never showed him mercy?
You saw the moment he snapped,
But not the years he screamed in silence.
But ignore the records of violence—
Against his spirit, his mind, his manhood denied.
But you can’t identify the cry.
Because the system ain’t trained to hear sobs in strong men,
To see trauma in the eyes of those taught to pretend.
In every pause, in every breath you hold back.
In every laugh that’s too loud, in every step that cracks.
You’re not just a case file or another stat.
You’re a son, a soul, a story worth coming back.
So today, we rewrite the script,
With faith, with healing, with purpose equipped.
We build safe spaces where truth don’t have to hide—
Where a Black man can finally cry and not be crucified.
We identify more than the crime—