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Indiana Daily Student

Black Voices: "Behind my mask is a quivering lip," a poem by Amaiya Branigan

Behind my mask is a quivering lip. 

Hundreds of thousands of dead bodies slain from sickness. 

So behind my mask I stay, as I bear witness. 

Behind my mask is a quivering lip. It catches my tears so the ground they never hit. 

Behind my mask is a quivering lip. 

Anxiety plagues my body as I turn on the news and the president asked me, “What do you have to lose?”

My Black life is no gambling game so to vote for him, I refuse. 

Behind my mask is a quivering lip. It catches my tears so the ground they never hit. 

Behind my mask is a quivering lip.

As thoughts of equitable plans fill up my mind, I glance at the clock, it’s 11:59. I stow away my ideas and begin to unwind, for this day is over, I am now out of time. 

Behind my mask is a quivering lip. It catches my tears so ground they never hit. 

Behind my mask is a quivering lip. 

As the moon lights the sky every night before lay, I bow before the Lord and talk to him and pray. 

“If I shall die before I wake, dear Lord please keep my soul to take.” 

Behind my mask is a quivering lip. It catches my tears so the ground they never hit. 

Behind my mask is a quivering lip. But nonetheless, I will never ever quit. 

I may fall and I may stumble, but with God as my guiding light, I will never crumble. 

Behind my mask is a quivering lip. It catches my tears so the ground they never hit.

#Hope.

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