Inspired by Martin Luther King, Jr...

The time is early morning, seven at best;
Already, a negro stands in protest.
Some paces away, a shielded man in a black vest
Carries a baton and a temper to test.
And it is not before long that blue eyes meet brown–
David and Goliath, a king and a lesser crown.
In the forenoon grey, their gazes lost of love,
Bring shine to the devil and evils thereof.
This silence aflame–unwithering–culturally tamed
Garners insanity in whom be truthfully sane.

After an eternity in unbroken hush
Comes the roar of the the battalions, truckload bluff.
Distant marches of militant boots and negro hand-me-downs
Find station at this intersection in morn-lit Downtown.

The last ruffle of men, their readying stout
Dies in attention to the black man’s shout:

                                               “‘Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability,
                                                     
​                                                       but comes through continuous struggle!’”

Inspired by the courage of their brother’s stand,
Came forth the cry of yet another man:

                                   “‘And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom.
                                             

                                                  A man can't ride you unless your back is bent!’”
Blue soldiers in crime, though in silence they abide
Until the game of blame demands a tie.
With a force a hundred men strong
An officer pridefully recites a right for their wrong:

                                                  “To protect and to serve guarantees not merely a life,
​                                                   
​                                                    but, more importantly, the life of the officer’s right.”

Armies advance closer in sudden tension,
And along with, an eruption of vengeful logic, anger’s pension.

                                                                 “So Trayvon Martin, Scott, and more...
                                                                 
​                                                                  What about them, whom we adore?”

A roar of cheers as victory soars
And an “Amen!” to follow in galore.

                                                 “‘It is not possible to be in favor of justice for some people

                                                         and not be in favor of justice for all people!’”

Criminals of justice under the badge
Implies these negroes—heroism a had-had.
But it is this untampered bridge now newly shattered
That ignites the feared war since dawn untattered.

Now with rage to fuel loaded arms
Their grin and twinkle shine not of charms;
Rather, a Glock 22 and a negro’s cheap heat
Take position and aim, targets complete.

A dead delay separates calm from war
Right until the first shot that triggered more.
One by one, or six by six
Men from either side take blood splattering licks.
Molotovs ablaze, beer glass to knives
Chaos runs wild, Death fed with lives.

In the hours gone by, funerals come alive,
The triumph they seek like honey in the hive.
Numbers rise and numbers fall
To the call of duty that destroys them all.

. . .At the coming eve, the skies lie crimson;
Under Heaven, the Artist unmentioned.
And now in the Death Valley of spiritual kin
Cries repentance in their eyes, guilty of sin.

Aside dead brothers and souls to be gone
All gazes turn to where will soon be home.
A brilliant light, broken through the clouds
Appears the face of the King to judge aloud:

                                                            “A RIOT IS THE LANGUAGE OF THE UNHEARD,
                                                                           
​                                                                BUT THIS LANGUAGE I FEAR TO LEARN!”

As before the war, silence restored
And the King roars through, in anger once more.

                                    “DARKNESS CANNOT DRIVE OUT DARKNESS; ONLY LIGHT CAN DO THAT.
                                              
​                                             HATE CANNOT DRIVE OUT HATE. ONLY LOVE CAN DO THAT.”

. . .With that, an extraordinary flash
Blinds the men of the battle’s last.
Fading into the skies that lie above
Is the last of King, Jr., an angel and a dove.

And left in the darkness that consumed the city prior,
Every man and every spirit stand lost of initial desire.
No war is won through push or shove,
But, rather, in the unfortunate rarity to simply love.

~Previously published in Independence High School's Big I Legacy literary magazine.

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