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Poem For Heather Heyer
1
When she woke up that day she had a body.
She had no reason to imagine that by the time night fell
she would be a person the whole world was mourning.
When she woke up she was listening.
She heard the voices that no one else seemed to be hearing.
So many cries of frustration.
So many whispers of pain.
So many souls hungry for justice.
And she heard the coarse calls of hatred
descending on Charlottesville;
she knew without thinking
that she had to act.
She could have made lots of excuses.
Life is full of reasons for not doing
the things that have to be done.
But she'd heard the voices crying for justice.
And she'd heard the rough words of hatred.
She was standing where she was supposed to be
that afternoon.
2
When Heather Heyer woke up that morning she had a body.
Now her body is buried... a body torn by hatred.
And we,
still in our bodies,
must make some kind of sense
of the world that remains.
Will we succumb to division?
Will we surrender to loud hopeless anger?
Will we choose to see foes where there could be friends?
These are the questions that haunt us.
These are the questions we all have to answer.
3
In each of our hearts is a lens
that when held up to the power of love
can concentrate the scattered rays of hope
and give each one of us common purpose.
This is what could draw us together.
And in that coming together
Heather's sacrifice
could be charged with a new meaning
and Heather's life ---
so dedicated to the power of love ---
could be
magnified.
Whether this happens or not
is all up to me...
and you.
It's all up to...
us.
Copyright ©
Stanfield Major
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