Dedicated to Breonna Taylor because she mattered. She still does.
My Shrines
I build shrines with angry tears, for the most holy, I have that shed
These are the ones that bigots mock, yet the ones that they most dread
I grow flowers in twisting pain, birthed in the narrows of my throat
Strewn across my altars, they smell of dwindling hope
I light candles in my heart, to warm from rising chill
I kneel in desperation, pray these evil spirits still
I place symbols of the martyred, now in ancestral lands
I pray their sacrifice inhabit and solidify our stand
I call True God to impart the plan that will pointedly define
My role in this revolution to ease my troubled mind
Incomprehensible
Breonna. What is the price of her life stolen ?
The despise of her assailants is contemptible; the tears of her kinsmen are in-absorbable; the failure of “justice” to address her ceasing is unpardonable.
The Heavens will take up her cause, and the reeling from the reaping will reveal.
The reign of posted puppets will perish.
True Justice demands its day.
I pray to see it come.

…die no more
I take her up in my arms
A daughter I never knew
“Daughter, die no more”
Spirit ushers her toward the sky
Away from a land too broken
To care or understand
That she was the one
It could’ve loved
Protected
Not rejected solid life
Nor cooked down what she
Was meant to be
Likening her legacy
To wilted greens
Down a drain, never to be redeemed
Daughter, die no more
Leaving me to keep her name on my pen
In my fingertips
A daughter I never knew
Because they sent word by vile loathsome lips
That the bullet that tore through her live body unjustified
Ripped the light from her eyes
Would not be held accountable
And her only justification would come
In her by and by…
Daughter, die no more
My children march on streets
Of hate
In a land that reviles and berates
Skin
And embraces
Sin
Calls Evil forth
Names it “God”
And invites it in…
No God that I know, Daughter
As you will find
When you join the fold
Of Real God Divine
Daughter, die no more
Die no more…