When they come for me
Those who tread dressed in the black of night
Will they truly see?
Or are they blinded for lack of Light?
That though they husbands and fathers be
Can they not fathom that they are the same as me?
When they come for me
With warrant grasp'ed in shaking hand
Pounding for entry, praying to Thee
That I surrender, and having knelt that silver band
About my wrists, my heart truly wee
Can they not fathom that they are the same as me?
When they come for me
Are they fearful? Do they dread?
That long ago my Peace made with Thee
Knowing the price upon my head
Meeting them at the closed and bar'red door
Guns flashing with thun'drous roar
Smoke and fire
Lead and steel
The glint of a knife
A bullet's peal
Cries of mercy
Forgotten ire
Can they not fathom?
Do they not see?
They never were as good as me.
8 comments:
Hey Jenkins,
I'm so glad you feel comfortable coming out of the closet on my blog. Sorry, but I'm happily heterosexual.
Party is at my place. BYOBB for you. (Bring Your Own Body Bag)
Oh, and it is "be*A*ucoup". Boo-koo or boo-coo would have been acceptable, but please at least respect the French language if you're going to attempt to use it.
...back to back home runs Brother...
i'm with ken "back to back home runs"!!! keep up with the writing and the poetry - you do both exceptionally well!
your friend,
kymber
Another wonderful post Catman!
What a very moving poem, Catman! Hope they won't come for you and take you away from blogging. We'll be truly disheartened if ever that happened.
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Always entertaining here at the Catman's house!
Good work, my friend!
Step off, Jenkins. Cat ain't alone. You come for one, you come for all. Mama paint that yeller streak down yer back? Or ya jest get it from pissin on yerself while standin on yer head?
Thanks, Ken!
Kymber, please tell Jambaloney how honored I was for his kind words yesterday. I was pressed for time and wasn't able to respond to each in kind. Thank you for your continued love and support. I must admit, that I am somewhat envious of your living situation and your growing friendship with the people of the land you now call home.
Thank you, Aggie!
Jean, the poem wasn't so much about me personally, but you need not worry. I'm sure I will be just fine. The knowledge of those who suffer so greatly at the hands of brutish thugs weighs heavily. I think often of that young Marine who was gunned down by police in Arizona. In his own home. In front of his family. The law has become about the law, and it is no longer about Justice.
Thank you so much, Jim.
Anon, I sincerely appreciate the backup.
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