Tags
A Candle for Trayvon, Between Life and Death, Dark Hallway, Justice for Trayvon, Lesson Before Dying, Massive Trayvon Martin Cover-Up, National Poetry Month, When Death Comes Stealing
Under this thin veil of a sheet
My body feels bruised, battered, and beat.
Worn down by the hardest fight of my life,
I can but barely breathe.
Still in a state of unconsciousness,
But ever so slightly aware.
In between stages of out and in,
I’m not quite sure how I got here.
Will God take me now, hushed as might be?
This, I know can’t be His will.
How much more can this yearning for life
Torment, ride, and taunt me still?
No one comes to claim me lest I die,
No turning back, not now it seems.
Can’t hold on much longer…still…I try,
Figured by now, this ain’t no dream.
I lie at heaven’s gate,
It’s too somber, too surreal.
My body feels weightless,
My soul flees somewhere to keep.
Can’t catch a break, not even a breath.
This vacuum of horror,
This stench of death.
Family, home, what else have I left?
Behind…me, I hear a calvary,
A throng of criers, mothers, groan.
Mourning what sounds like a weeping song,
Children, fathers, aunts, preachers moan.
They cover me with their promise of love,
And cloak me with their vow.
That history cannot repeat itself,
Too much at stake right now.
I shut my eyes this one last time,
I know there won’t be a revival
For me…but for many scores more,
I’ll have to wait for their arrival.
I’ve fought this march to the bitter end,
Yet death won’t loosen its grip.
So until the death knell rings for them,
My life will kindle their wick.
Oooh, lovely, Avril.
Thanks Claudia!
Wow. This is very deep, holding much for us to contemplate along with our own feelings about this tragedy. Glad you shared it with us, Ms. Empress.
Thanks Ré. This tragedy has been deeply unsettling for me for so many obvious reasons, but what I struggled the most with, second to teaching my son how to navigate in this not so post-racial New World Order, was my inability to make sense of what might have been those last few breaths for Trayvon Martin.
As always, thank you for taking the time to read it.
Your poems flow so beautifully. I know this has specific meaning to you, but I hope you don’t mind if I say so, it touched me personally as I read it. Today I had an asthma attack while running, it was not terrible but it was so frustrating and uncomfortable. I ruefully joked to myself that I would probably be found dead in the woods. Strangely your poem put that frustration into words for me and made me feel better. Thank you. And I do appreciate the intended meaning of the poem.
Thanks Amelie! I feel the sincerity of your comment, so no need to qualify your explanation.
You related to the very human experience of not knowing what happens during that space and time, and the frightening thoughts associated with the outcomes. Clearly, there were some specific themes on my mind when I wrote this piece; however, there is quite a bit in there from which one can draw personal meaning, or find personal strength. I am glad that you were able to do that, though I feel badly about the circumstances.
Make sure you take care of you!
It really is beautiful.
Thanks Jon! Glad you liked it.
Wow, Empress. Very weighty. I feel like I’m standing by this deathbed in your poem, thinking my own thoughts but in community with others all feeling what they’re feeling.
Good morning Lisa. As always, thank you for taking the time to read and reflect on this poem, “Massive Cover-Up”. The subject was definitely weighty, but somehow I couldn’t capture the weight of what I feel in an essay. It just didn’t seem like the right forum for that expression. Occasionally, a poem is just the right venue for me to untangle my thoughts, unravel my sadness, yet harness the gravity of what I am feeling in a fewer, easier to read rhythm for the reader. I’m glad that it worked for you, and that you were able to get into position on this one. I see you right there. I’m glad that you got that sense of community too.
I know what you mean, Empress. I consider myself a prose writer foremost, but sometimes explanatory words are inadequate, and it’s better to come at something sideways through poetry or image (or other media).
I like that! “Come at something sideways”! Heyyy!
I’m glad it worked.
I always enjoy your writing as well as your art, which reminds me to pay you a visit during my scheduled blog reading. Your writing is ‘appointed reading’, as my friend would like to call it, and that’s a good thing.
Nice flowing poem. Images of sickness death and a funeral were vivid.
Thanks Kim. I’m glad that the imagery came across in this form.
Excellent poem, A. I loved it’s flow and was transported to that feeling, albeit for the briefest of sad moments.
Peace,
C.
Thanks Coco! Funny, this poem occurred to me this morning as I read your last post on Rodney King. Sad, indeed.