A letter to an ex-friend

A now-former friend told me she had no sympathy for anybody who joins the military for any reason. Upon hearing this, I literally fell out in tears. Days later, she emailed me an apology that showed she still didn’t recognize the wrongness of her statement. The kiss-off email I wrote back turned into a poem. This is that poem, unedited and unchanged.
Years later, the ex-friend died. This poem is my reaction to that loss.

Some things done cannot be undone.

Some things said cannot be unsaid.

When you insisted that you have no sympathy for not even African Americans who join the military, not even poor African Americans,
not even poor African Americans in Mississippi,
not even poor African Americans in Mississippi, in the 1950s and ’60,
not even poor African Americans in Mississippi, in the 1950s and ’60, born into Jim Crow,
picking cotton just like their enslaved predecessors did,
not even a poor African American man in Mississippi, in the 1950s and ’60, born into Jim Crow, picking cotton just like his enslaved predecessors did, where he could die just for looking too hard at a White woman,
not even my father —

You spit on the souls of every person of African descent who hoped, “If I fight in this war, then they’ll set me free.”
You spit on the souls of every person of African descent who hoped, “If I fight in this war, they’ll know that I love my country.”
You spit on the souls of every person of African descent who hoped, “If I fight in this war, that’ll prove to them that I’m a real American.”
You spit on the souls of every person of African descent who hoped, “If I join the military, they’ll treat me and my family right.”

My ancestors, my people, my father, didn’t go to your nation-state’s wars
Join your nation-state’s military
Looking to kill anybody.
They wanted freedom.
They wanted citizenship.
They wanted what was promised: “…All men are created equal.” “…Liberty and justice for all.” “…Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

You fault them for wanting to be free?
You fault them for believing the promises (lies) of your nation-state?
You say they had a choice?
Only if you consider slavery — in chains, in Jim Crow, in racism — the other “option.”
Only if you consider death the other “option.”

 With your stinging venom of White American privilege
That never has to worry about anyone demanding your birth certificate be publicly posted,
That believes that “everybody has a choice” (the “rugged individual” can “pull himself up by the
bootstraps,” after all),
You spit on my ancestors.
You spit on my father.
You spit on me.

Some things done cannot be undone.

Some things said cannot be unsaid.

To clean the venom you have spat, I may have to scour my skin away.