What is Justice?

[IMAGE: Mural in Minneapolis by Xena Goldman, Cadex Herrera, Greta McLain, Niko Alexander, and Pablo Hernandez]

What is justice,

When the only proof of a lynching is the very image of it happening,

Again and again?

What is justice when this is the exception?

This is a sick feeling of knowing,

Nothing will bring back

The life battled for,

Too little too late,

What is justice when the very judgement brings with it a greater sense of fear for those of deeper pigmentation?

For vigilante retribution? Revenge?

Why does the hammer of judgement only

Bring to mind more images

More worries

of breathless lungs,

bodies burning,

Of bodies swinging;

That strange fruit

Our people know too well?

May our prayers of peace,

Of this first as a trend

Be met with a  change,

A shift,

Be met with true justice,

–Let [it] “roll down like waters

and righteousness like a mighty stream”

Justice by Homicide

I will not look upon

A young boy being slain,

Further trauma  is not in the healing,


Is not working.

The mission changes, but the purpose never did,

To cage,  enslave,  end black and brown bodies,

This justice was never just,

It was always just

law and order

–Property protection at any cost,

We will blame the victim,

Will interrogate their life,

Ignoring the bottom line,

Innocent until proven guilty,

And justice is not decided by the police.

A knee,

a choke hold

a tazer-a pistol,

TOmato- tomAto,

At the end of the day

Another dark one dead,

Justice by Homicide,

Another case is at end.



Give, give

Give of your soul,

Give in pieces,

Not the whole,

Don’t lose the essence,

The objective

The source,

Some will take, take,

Take without question

Don’t lose yourself

As you are giving

Give for others,

But forget not

You are living.

Hold You

Hold me
I want you to hold,
To lay close to your beating heart,
As close as we are now apart,
I want
To comfort your being
Of all the fears that pass over your brow,
I want to kiss away tears
That escape your tiring eyes,
I want to love you,
As I was always meant to,
Holding you close,
Like there are no barriers between us,
And I take your name,
As if we are one,
And the same,
May our hearts beat as one,
For always,
My love.

And Even Then…

Is this the anxiety male counterparts typically feel,
A coming of age that aches with pangs of hope and fear?
Of possible humiliation
And unrequited feelings;
Laid bare,
Like guitar strings never plucked?
I am lost,
In knowing what I want,
What I’m willing to do and be,
But I’m stepping into shoes that feel too big for me,
Sized 17 to be exact,
Sized for you,
And it fit so perfectly,
I undid us,
Untied it all,
Left us dangling
In my insanity
And now
Now I’ve grown,
I’ve learned,
We’ve grown,
We’ve learned,
And now I want,
I want,
Gluttonous I want nothing but this
And more of this
Of us,
Because I cannot imagine a day
A night,
A moment
That you’re
Nor a moment
That you’re not in
my life,
I would go to the ends of the Earth,
If it meant you might have a moment of peace,
I would bear unspeakable pain
If it meant you could share my greatest gift,
I would go without love,
If I could not have yours,
For you are something
I was undeserving of,
That I was too naïve and fragile to be entrusted with,
And yet you trusted me still.

I am foolish to expect second chances,
Or perhaps fate was never meant to be questioned by a fool,
And opportunity and courage are devised to set things right,
I have never loved as I love this one,
This man that I know, and who knows me,
For whom I am suddenly speechless;
Wanting nothing
Every ounce of his being to want and need my own,
And For promises of wizened lovers
Of “until death do us part,”

And even then…


Blunt beep of a monitor,
Calling out because you’re not
Needing you near,
Needing you here,
Testing your
Vital signs,
Signing for life,
Making sure you are
I wait for you,
And you enter,
Bruised and broken,
Like you’ve just come from a fight,
I smile thinking of the joke you’d make,
About “you should see the other guy,”
“Who are you?” You ask me,
You smile,
Your humor has not been injured,
It is your coping mechanism,
To handle the shock, the disappointment,
The fear, the anger
Over what a collision means
For you,
For all of us,
Your wounded body needs delicate, precise, firm attention,
To bandage trauma more than skin deep,
To mend your pride,
To salve your independence,
This is not an easy fix,
This is a 10000 piece jigsaw,
With pieces missing,
Worn edges to mislead,
This takes trust, takes time, takes patience,
Takes love,
And more of it still.