I remember the screams of the children out on the Common that night. I remember the deafening sounds, as sparks flew past my eyes. I remember the canister landing and pouring it’s smoke to the sky. I remember the look in that man’s eyes, with his hands stretched to the night. As he walked toward the chaos and knew he was ready to die for what’s right.
Chanting, “no justice, no peace”
Forced to live up to the promise
“No justice, no peace”
Turning the masses to prophets
There is neither justice nor peace
As they walk from their cells as free men
“No justice, no peace”
And must we live up to this promise?
Been reluctant to write this as I feel it may subvert perspectives that need to be elevated on the matter, but felt I needed to get this experience written down. Let me know in the comments if you feel it’s inappropriate and I can remove it.