George Floyd

Reads: 29  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


George Floyd

 

I know you.

 

I see your face flashed across a thousand screens.

I hear your last words, haunting in my ear.

I watch you struggling to breathe.

I seethe.

Because I know you.

 

I know your face.

Though I’ve never walked a mile in your shoes, I know you. I know YOU from the news.

Innocent.

Spent.

Your life’s worth a counterfeit twenty if it’s worth a cent.

A disposable good.

I watched how you stood as they threw you down to the ground.

Like a worm they could play with, they watched you squirm.

And now my stomach burns with each breath that I take, that you don’t.

Can’t.

Now the people riot and rant.

 

Your face is the spark,

That lights the embers but the flames lick too close to home,

As they rage, as they roam.

We yell, “Your life matters!”

Mattered.

 

And now you’re lost.

How many more must follow before the cost

Becomes too high?

But in the blink of an eye, the world will move on.

Safe in their bubble, you’re a momentary trouble, one man lost to the rubble.

 

We say we know you.

But do we?

 

We saw your face flashed across a thousand screens,

One of countless similar scenes,

And we promise to remember, promise this time things will change.

 

But do they?

Will they?

CAN they?

 

I know you.

 

I thought I knew you.

But after a while, the faces begin to look the same,

And I’m no longer a player. It’s not my game.

I watch from my tower.

With my words, I protest the power, but these seeds quickly sour with each pass of the hour.

Another injustice draws me away.

Maybe this one will have the gravity to stay.

 

Hey, I know your face!

It’s on the screens again.

I see your body, lifeless, and scream “It’s a sin!”

But history repeats. Always has. Always will.

I’m glued to the horror, my blood pressure rises, but white saviour, white privilege, the truth it disguises.

For I’ve never walked a mile in your shoes.

 

I don’t know your face.

I don’t know you.

 

Who are you?


Submitted: October 29, 2020

© Copyright 2020 Stephanie Katz. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Other Content by Stephanie Katz

Poem / Poetry