Today I stood across the street
As a young man,
Only a year younger
Than myself
Was dying,
Or had just died.
Today I stood, motionless, as the police brought
A sky-blue blanket to cover his body,
Or maybe it was the window,
One last bit of color,
for such a dreadfully colorless picture.
And I was oblivious to
What was happening,
Hoping,
That my initial thoughts
Of death
Were not true.
I consciously made the decision to push the
Images
Out of my mind and not let them penetrate
The outer shell of my pulled-together
Self.
As I watched the Other screaming, terrified, probably not
understanding either what had just happened
Right in front of him,
I decided to look away
when I should have brought the eyes of the world to witness
This moment
When everyone should have witnessed the
Absolute horror
Of death on a rainy day,
In a rainy street,
In a cold car,
In the middle of the day,
In a way
That no one should die,
No one should fear of losing their life
Like this,
And no one should be taken, violently, from the face of this
earth,
By a bullet so hard, cold,
Leaving not the blink of an eye for
Life.
Only later did it hit me, what actually happened,
And even later than that did the silence of
Those I was with smack me in the face.
Why did nobody scream?
Or whisper?
Acknowledge the gross reality of what we had
Just become a
Part
Of, as standby strangers passing by
Just shadows at the very edge of
Existence.
But we saw, and we heard. We felt.
I felt.
However delayed, I felt.
I feel. I feel pain and I feel tears of disbelief.
So, did my fellow passersby push away
Their feelings like I did?
Or did they not care?
I do not know.
But I know that every death, every injury, every tear, every
cry and every whisper,
Yes, even every laugh deserves attention, acknowledgement,
A communal respect, for these signs of life,
Because in some grotesque ways, does not death also show
Life?
It shows, possibly, the lack of life,
The leaving of life, and
Accentuate that what was before.
Now I cringe at the sound of sirens that
Pinch my heart with their high-pitched wails of sadness.
I no longer want to be afraid of walking the streets.
I do not want my loved ones to fear for me,
As I try and help the community with
The little time I want to offer up.
Not only I, but nobody should have such fears.
He had a whole life ahead of him,
And unlike me,
He was not given the chance to live and
Make the most of every precious moment.
So I plead:
Choose a battle and fight it well,
Fight it to grow and make the world a better place.
Fight not with guns, but with words of kindness, of
encouragement,
And of understanding.
Fight a battle of love,
Not trying to show your power and domination with your body,
But rather teaching others to see their own strengths.
Please. Let us start to make this world better piece by
piece, heart by heart,
For those who we lost, and those who we could have lost, but
most of all for all those
Who we might lose in the future,
And last,
For ourselves.