will he remember me?

i watched the slow motion

impact of him with the car.

the thump turned my eyes

from the red and green explosions.

did the fireworks drive him into the street?

i was the one who stood next to

his writhing body, bending over

not knowing what to say or do.

everyone told me to get back.

i told him it would be ok.

i wonder if he heard me.

i wonder if he already knew.

i wonder if he will remember me

in heaven or as a new fig tree.




after they shot her repeatedly and fatally in her own home,

their new chief, wondered aloud,

“what monster must they have seen?”

he saw his grandma.



is the pain different when you can say,

he looks like my cousin

my brother

my son.

is the pain different when you must say,

he is my cousin

my brother

my son.


is my saddened bystander pain anything?

will it ever be?

“Miss Mary”

“Miss Mary, today’s gonna be a good day.”

“Yes, it is a good day.”

“Miss Mary?”


“The sun feels so good.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Miss Mary- Oh My Lord! I gotta take that with my breath!”

“We’re gonna have to get you something to hide your eyes.”

“It’s just those girls are so pretty.”

“The sun is pretty too.”

“Miss Mary.”


“God loves you.”