of an imagined sunlit crime
Swung from an oak
a cruel pendulum mark of time
Some eyes tremble
Some eyes leer
all wonder at the marvel
of what happened here
Emmit’s a lesson some can’t forget
Emmit’s a lesson some haven’t learned yet
How many more
Must there be
Why does it take a man’s death
for us to see
As we travel down the road of another man
Who will never travel the same again
Truck tires designed to ride him above
Much better used to drag him down in the night
For a crime no more sinister than
He wasn’t born white
James Byrd’s a lesson some can’t forget
James Byrd’s a lesson some haven’t learned yet
And sometimes a child is shot
For doing nothing more
The walking home in the rain
From the local store
Was it the clothes he wore?
Was it the color of his skin?
He carried iced-tea and candy
What was his sin?
Some fifty plus years between hence and thence
To be reminded how fragile the balance on the fence
Stewart, Griffith and Hawkins lesson some can’t forget
Diallo, Bell and now Martin lessons some haven’t learned yet
How many more names will be added before the lesson is set?
Letting off some steam in the wake of another senseless killing and wanting to bitch-slap Geraldo Rivera even while a part of me understands the rational behind the unintentionally inflammatory statement.
Visit the rest of today’s Slices of Life over at Two Writing Teachers.