Wake Up Calls
I wanted to cry
when I watched the interview
where LeVar Burton says
he taught his son
to place both hands
outside the window
touching the car
when the police
pull him over.
I hate to think about
a figure I love
being judged by
the color of his skin,
being treated as less than,
being in danger.
That’s LeVar!
If it can happen to him,
it can happen to anyone,
any of my black friends,
any person of color.
It drove that home to me.
The death of Philando Castile
gutted me.
He was a truly innocent man.
(I know, it shouldn’t matter.)
It became the clearest, most undeniable
incident of police brutality.
Philando was an everyman.
I fell in love with him
through the stories
that came out about him
in the days after his death.
I mourned for him.
He made me want to become a better person.
I’m finally working on that,
tending to seeds that were planted
years ago.
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Very honest poem. Good ending.