All Lives Shattered

Things have been hurting a lot lately.

I’ve been hiding,
isolating
myself rather than expanding,
Curling
up into a ball
in a dimly lit room
because that’s what feels safest.
These things,
they happen,
amplified
by our times;
the shiny
incandescent
windows
in our palms,
framing it all.
The imaginary places that I used to run to have become
the new candle light vigils,
the new graveyards.

I can’t help to think that this is the goal.
That phantom
squeeze
upon our throats,
that breath
snatching
fear
that leaves us dizzy,
and the slightest of tingles
around the irises,
not
quite
a
burning,
but an urgent push
that can’t be dammed up.

This is what
horror
grief
hopelessness feels like.

When dystopia seems eminent,
what is one to do
in the face of their own demise?
Under the crushing weight
of
genocide
I conform to their will.
I become smaller,
quieter,
I cower in wait
for the day I wake up
looking down
a steel barrel,
and then,

 
never again.

 

All lives matter until someone is scared,
and then the all turns a distinct shade of blue.
I wonder when the value of my life disappears;
right before you pull the trigger,
or when judgment turns on you?

– Camera Martin

If you wish to donate to the Alton Sterling Family Scholarship fund to help send Alton Sterling’s children to college, click here. If you wish to donate to the family of Philando Castile, click here. If you want to see a reform in our police nationwide, contact your local government officials and make your concerns known. Know that you do not have to feel hopeless.

 

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