We are so numb to the news now. Another black man shot, killed, and a protest! Time goes by and within 24 hours another part of the United States "Breaking News" another black child, teenager,and man is killed! It's 2018 and I am 53 years old. As a nation are we not moving forward? Why do I think I am living in a Jim Crow area? Why do I feel that now we as a people don't value another person's life. We don't mind killing someone who looks like us.
If you did your research you would probably see that you're killing someone from your own tribe, a blood relative, and someone son . I have seen cousins in opposite gangs ready to kill their blood relative for the gang. My mind can't take it because the same blood that runs through you is running through me.
I have written five books and in each I always write poems about the mass killing in our community, senseless killing of a man over selling a cigarette, another pulling a empty clip out of his pocket, sitting in a car with his child, or worse walking home with a bag of Skittles.
We blackball a black man who uses his platform to bring national attention to police brutality! We are seeing more and more on the news video footage from bodycam to show what happened, officers on paid leave, and then back to work. The family questioning the system that is locking up so many black men for years for minor offenses yet something so blatant is excused.
We legalize weed smoking but that's not what is killing us. Strange thing is the same drug that killing the poor in the urban community, the one that rich are driving into those areas to get,is also having rivals kill if you enter into their block for control.
The saying is stay woke! Don't think that it can't happen into your family. Do you think that a parent woke up today and said today is the day that my child won't come home. A spouse won't be able to provide for the family.
I come from a large family majority are males. I pray over each daily because though we're not perfect. Some have done things that have put them in a situation that they could have been locked up or dead. I want them to each make it home. I want them to each be the man, father, and spouse to their families. I want them to age to be old like my father who died at 92. The stories he shared growing up from 1904, seeing black only water fountain, entering in back doors, and to fulfill his dream of owning properties. My family is a melting pot we all look different, mixed with all races, and my concern is now growing larger. I just want the killing to stop and not another son to be lost to the streets, not another son to be killed, not another son!
Patricia A. Saunders
Author, Poet, and Blogger
Follow me on Instagram: @blessedpoetpat