“Who Was I”


Who Was I

Was I my mother’s son,

Was I the beloved,

hallowed born male

in my family,

My father’s delight and yet,

There was born two,

But now tragically only

left to bring in the family

off spring only one,

Were my cries, my bemoans

for life,

For help,

Below the moon that

pierced the dark velvet sky,

That aphotic, cryptic night,

Did they echo the cries that  took

place way back when the slaves

cried and bewailed as they were drug to the

shores of no more?

Who was there to hear my cries of help?

Who was there for me as I let out my last

sighs as I died?

I lay on a cold slate three days like a

tossed away slave,

Cold, lifeless and alone,

Ignored, and tossed to the side

my phone,

Just long enough to cover up

any truth that might would

have come out,

Now framed and being blamed,

Disgrace being placed by my name,

I fought as hard as I could to live,

I tell you, I did,

I was ever so brave,

As on the grass I lay,

That night that I fought for my life

and my right to live and travel as I did,

I fought to be where I was,

I fought for the right to walk freely as me

under that beaming moonlight,

I fought for the right to be a dark skinned

man given the right to place a hood

of cover over my head because

of the cold and rain,

I fought for the right to embrace my family

again,

But tragically,

A frightful, calamitous,

Insufferable, appalling,

gruesome, grim demise

would be my plight,

And now after all you have done,

You try to damage and further devalue

my lifeless being,

You want to squash who I was

like a bug under your foot with

no meaning,

But,

The heavens have intervened,

The world has told you no,

This is and was our son,

A human being,

Our brother,

A destined father,

His mother’s and his dad’s adored son,

Our beloved one,

Black,

White,

Hispanic,

And oh no we are not done,

From the highest office,

To the furthest part of the world,

Just about everyone,

They heard and hear the grief of a

Grieving mom and dad,

They hear my cries too finally

although I do not dwell any longer

under the sun but rest in the Son,

Justice for me is reigning,

As I rest with God’s son.

We got you covered Trayvon Martin.

Author Thelma Cunningham

www.authorthelmacunningham.com

Advertisements

34 thoughts on ““Who Was I”

  1. thelma, well-written. i will admit to you that i have deliberately not followed this whole tragedy. i have stuck my head in the sand because i wanted to believe that all of us have come so much farther than this. it occurs to me that this is precisely why i enjoy blogging. you don’t see color. you don’t see ethnic background. you don’t see anything physical. what you do experience is just as real though, you get to connect and learn from others. i like that. maybe that is what heaven is like?

  2. This is a powerfully written memorial. I pray that our country will become a safer place for all God’s children, and that we will grow in our understanding and respect for one another so that these kinds of tragedies are less likely to occur.

  3. I am a part of Project Justice, a proud signer of the petition and recipient of a thank you from the Martins! Praise be to God for this most heartfelt and successful ode to the memory of Trayvon and to the quest for justice in ALL these types of situations, wherever prejudice and hatred stalk the earth.

    • Hello! Thank you for saying what you did. It meant so much to me to write this for him. I kept feeling his spirit around me. I finally came up with the words. Now I feel a peace about it. It was like He knew that I could give him the memorial that was needed. I know that their will be other beautiful ones too. Glad to have been inspired to do this.

    • Hello! Thank you for saying what you did. It meant so much to me to write this for him. I kept feeling his spirit around me. I finally came up with the words. Now I feel a peace about it. It was like He knew that I could give him the memorial that was needed. I know that their will be other beautiful ones too. Glad to have been inspired to do this.

  4. a strong poem…I’m writing about blue and blues…today I feel good…everything is all right…I guess…from ‘american trilogy’, from Elvis Presley performance…I don’t know the author…’his truth is marching on’

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s