Here is a candle,
a flagged token of light
and trespass
in the small hours
for a man who is
no longer with us,
who, for eight minutes and forty-six seconds,
desperately attempted to save his own life
through bated pleas and Mercy’s petition,
which, in the blindest seize
and theft of broad daylight
was violently denied,
and turned repeatedly over
to a long shadow
with too much black on its hands,
too much fear-based acid dripped from within,
and make no mistake, we the people,
upon this earth, sharing seasons and soul’s plights,
reap the corrosion and soiled bones,
whether we know it or not,
flyers to a raging pandemic of prejudice,
shame and debasement
that keeps us gagged
and bound to viruses of our own making,
and so, on this night,
a small measure of prayer-flung light
offered humbly,
a warm hand to join the hands
of those in mourning
not only for the man
whose blood now holds
false badges in true judgment,
but for a collective crisis
that is long overdue
for dawn’s promise
of a brave new day.