The Looking Glass

Black bodies. Innocent lives abruptly taken. Their bodies left on the street corner brutalized and misshapen. Their loved ones left behind-and in our homes we sit and watch on square hand held devices. Lynching spectacles turned digital. Modern oppression romanticized and desensitized. We start to see this as the new normal. Death is inevitable, yet why so accessible? Has life and death entered the hands of man? Have the clocks stopped and the sands of time fallen just as the bodies do? 2 minutes and 30 seconds to see my brother shot down in the road. Twitter notified me before the surgeon did. A hashtag went out before calls to the family. And we just sat, Watching. While his daughter sat waiting, waiting for him to say something. Waiting for him to breathe once more. Broadcast live, he did not get to live and we just watched. There was nothing we could do. You tagged his now lifeless body in images. In his image you left nothing but a post “Rest in power.” you typed in a dark room with walls the color of his blood. “He didn’t deserve this” words black like his skin, dark like the gun that took his life, colored like his pupils as his soul left his body. And the man who shot him is able to go free, though 20,000 plus witnesses were able to see. He was not a threat, yet they made him to be. The pain, and the agony in the arms of his woman as he lie cold in her lap. He is no longer clothed in oppression, but in robes of white, and his daughter shall never forget the feeling as she sat watching that night. As we sat watching from a live stream, did the court not hear the same screams that we did? Did they not witness the same things that we did? When they pressed play, were they not able to identify the body ? to tell that he is not the first, second, nor last? Your browser history can explain it, can show you how fast-how fast we forget. We forget the others. All the ones that we’ve watched on repeat. They’ve taken our loved ones who paved ways with bare feet. Stripped them of their last breath, until it became a chant only to use at protests. Hands in the air, but it isn’t enough to stop your existence from going viral. Refreshing your news feed only to see more black men bleed.  But keep scrolling. Don’t stop scrolling. The comment section is never full. Does One rt not equal a prayer? Is our Justice system blind?

Our lives do matter. Black lives-they do matter.

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