A Child: Trayon Martin
Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury
Let us not asked what kind of child
But the memory of a child
Your child
My child
You
Me
Frightened of the legacy
Running from its history
Overtaken in the dark
Turning
A hooded frown from death
And suddenly feeling
The end
The shocking end
And no white sheet to cover
The trail of lies ...
And in this child
All of us must come to terms with death
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury
It is a child
The black dream of equality.
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