She sways
uncertain,
heavy with
that horror
that will
not fit
in her skin.
She grieves
with oceans
that dwell within,
a salt-water geyser
spewing lava fire
that reddens her eyes
and face
while she
is slowly stumbling
through her place,
hoping that
this is just
some nightmare
or mistake.
She shakes
like an
earthquake,
ten hours
too late
and she can
still feel
the after shocks
of what was lost.
She shudders
trying to catch
a breath that breaks
faster than lightning,
air that will not stay
where it is needed
ca, cau, cause…
cause, her little boy
just got shot
by some
off duty cop.
Not totally unexpected
after a lifetime
of being disrespected
and disregarded
by society,
by a culture
that devalues
her son’s humanity
because of
the tint of his skin
and where he
was currently living;
But this is a pain
that keeps on giving
more sorrow,
and then on
the day after
the day after
tomorrow,
she sees
this social disease
on her tv
where talking bobble heads
deny the cop’s complicity,
rewrite reality
whilst ignoring history,
and turn her young son
into a big bad ****.