Tragedy On a Wednesday
Nothing important happened today,
according to an omission
in the local newspaper Metro page
The death of my best friend ... my husband,
this sad story of injustice was missing
Such a horrible ghetto tragedy
wasn’t worth one drop of black ink
A bucket of widow tears,
and a heavy casket of stolen years
ain’t much to write about
Their light compassion darkly color my thoughts
The coroner said specifically more,
though the jargon was impersonal and technical:
Six bullets ... cranial hemorrhage,
two collapsed lungs ... four broken ribs
And a beautiful face unrecognizable
from a brutal beating
My loving spouse was last seen getting stopped
by two police squad cars
Handcuffed and whisked away,
my beloved took a cold visit to the morgue
later that day
Nothing out of the ordinary happened
is what the police arrest report said:
Belligerent attitude ... refused to eat his food,
got violent when questioned ... didn’t follow any of the rules
The dry report clinically concluded:
Suspect resisted in the interrogation room,
and reached for an officer’s weapon
Fear for a lawman’s life
obviously was priority number one
Deadly force was justified, so they say
But, what about the beatings before the discharge of the gun?
Oh, all of the accused officers
got a medal pinned on their professional life
The judge tossed the lawsuit out ... said it was simply
the vengeful rantings of a grief-stricken wife
My meek, mild-mannered man
was slanderously portrayed
as a drug addict who went berserk
Truth be told with a graffiti spray can;
pure honesty sackcloth arrayed,
he died going on his way to work
Nothing too important happened today,
just another ghetto funeral parade
Nothing that important happened today;
truth got covered up and buried,
as the arbiters of justice looked the other way
Nothing too important happened today,
only black shrouded pain on public display
Mental distress note to self:
My personal tragedy occurred on a Wednesday
Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2017
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