While Fires Burn 2

after another police murder

I have been reading poems this morning

glistening poems with fractured greens and radiating yellows

simmering poems with taut blues and slippery silvers

lively poems thick with forest smells of moss and pine needles

flavored with salted winds and wild blackberries

and cushioning carpets of moist brown leaves

those poems have pushed aside for a moment

my own flattened words bitter

and sour with the taste of dry ashes

and the texture of shattered glass

where the only color I find is a molten red

that seeps to the littered pavement before slowly

drying into a hard, piercing black

by devorah major

resisting genocide

everyone is writing poems

about George Taylor or Ahmaud Arbery

Emmit Till or Amado Diallo

Trayvon Martin or Oscar Grant

Ramarley Graham or Michael Brown

or so many others

but i

have been writing poems

about black men murdered

in the endlessly declared and

undeclared wars of our times

dying while loved

dying while alone

dying while afraid

dying while besieged by enemy

dying while besieged by kin

i have been writing poems

about black men dying

for about as long as

i have been writing poems

and as i sit here searching

for the right words to pen

my mouth is slack

tears held back

as the litany of words

i have already scribed

rolls out beneath me

and the only things

that seem to have changed

are that more are dying,

ever younger and more innocent

full of possibilities

that too few seem able to see

and more are killing each other

for reasons even they cannot fully explain

unreasoned rage, confusion,

frustration and desire

but the center

of each of these poems

is the same

the killing of

and death of

black men

i already have stacks of poems

with sharp tipped

blades cutting my heart

black people are killed

without mercy or remorse

without fear of penalty

one black person every

twenty-eight hours

falls from a police officer

security officer, vigilante

while another 8000

die each year

from killing each other

each of these murders

killing our line

ending our future

so i write this poem

for the living

who we need to offer

more than cautionary advice

say, “yes sir” on demand

keep your hands up and open

stay aware and remember

you are a hunted target

always under siege

prejudged as criminal

wrong on account of color

wrong on account of neighborhood

wrong on account of clothes

wrong on account of music

wrong on account of birth

we need to make a way

for all of them

to stride with their smiles

lighting up dark corners

as their neighbors watch out for

the treasure of their inner beauty

and the caprice of their outer style

and the endless potential

of their precious lives

by devorah major

Firestorm texture on black background, shot of flying fire sparks

There are many things you can do. Encourage your representatives to support policies that make police responsible and that address systemic racism in a meaningful way. Support the efforts at reparations. Read what Black Lives Matters believes  and see if your actions support their ideals. If you support the ideals reflect it in the every day. Thank you to all who helped clean up the streets and thank you most importantly to all who are standing up, speaking up, going out and joining the call- What do we want? “Justice.” When do we want it? “Now.”  Any other ideas on what we can and should do please comment.