Home Poetry Blood Red

"Yo Mama's Pieta," a photo by Renee Cox, as seen in "Through a Lens Darkly: Black Photographers and the Emergence of a People," a film by Thomas Allen Harris.

Enough.

Enough blood, red and wet,
and human as tears shed, by families waiting
for the one who will never
come home. Come home,
to sin, hidden
behind bills and laws
that made it all equal now, right?
Or so we said,
but the bullets tear straight through
that amendment
you’re so proud of, into flesh
and bone,
innocent until proven, guilty?
for whites alone.
Not for
Tarika Wilson,
Miriam Carey,
Kimani Gray,
Travares McGill,
Shereese Francis,
Malissa Williams,
Kendric McDade,
Ervin Jefferson,
Tamir Rice,
Ezell, Ford,
Michael Brown,
John Crawford,
Eric Garner,
Rekia Boyd,
Ramarley Graham,
Ronald Madison,
James Brissette,
Aiyanna Jones,
Jeshua ben Joseph,
more, marching, skeletal
through history, strung up
on an all American cross
blood, blood
on blind Justice’s hands
from what we’ve done, and left
undone. How long?
Oh Lord, how long?

For resurrection.

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