With tears I say goodbye

Though I do not know your pain,

Nor the pain of your ancestors

Inflicted at the hands of those that look like me.

When I look in the mirror

I am not proud,

I am not proud of our past,

Not proud of of our inhumanity,

Not proud of the picture our hands are painting.

With a broad brush,

We paint in your blood,

Red and warm as mine

Though left to dry cold in the streets.

We stand around,

As if awaiting applause,

While your spirit fades,

Showing just how little we care.

I know this is not me,

Though I know you can’t see it;

And that these words are just words

Unable to bring you back from the dead.

Your family grieves,

But their grief is overshadowed,

Trampled down under the weight of constant diversions

Portraying you as something less than human.

Yet none of this matters!

Injustice cannot hide forever

Behind an iron blue citadel

Mortared with lies, racism and hatred.

 

~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~

 

AUTHORS NOTE: I was not going to write another piece about the tragedy in Ferguson Missouri today, but I find Michael Browns’s death so troubling that I couldn’t help myself.  His death in my eyes shows that racism still runs rampant in this country though many of us would prefer not to admit it.  For those that would like to pretend this never happened, I think it is time you opened your eyes.  Explain to me how being stopped for jaywalking could escalate to the point where a young man is shot six times and killed, then left alone in the street for so long.  This is completely beyond my comprehension.