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This day, and onward


Art by Wendy Bello

It felt like a little more than just yesterday

When I saw sunlit smiles and children play,

But maybe those moments were just monarchs

Fluttering by before the cold came.


In half a century, you can ask me if I remember

The day when our lives turned around,

The day when the world flipped upside down.

This day, March 11th, was

A declaration of war but not between two countries.


This king, he wore such a thorny crown,

Sent all his troops all around.

It didn’t matter who you were, disobey and for sure

You’ll feel that blow to the chest.

Now, all these birds are cooped in their nests.


Alone, locked up in a cell ‘cause outside’s really hell,

Our heart and hope tapers, with every headline on the papers.


Up and up, the numbers rising like the Sun,

Yet I swear, that fire stays up there just for fun.

The blaze had never been so violet.

Not to mention all the flaming violence.


There was gunning, and running away in fear,

Endless, endless, endless tears.

Was it from the pain, or perhaps was it from the gas?

Marching down the lane, unable to breathe through the masks,

Those people then on their knees

Doing more than just praying

For their brother George.

In the name of justice,

It was for Ahmaud and Breonna too,

and Rayshard and Dijon, yes, that’s true.

For every single one that suffered and became frantic,

Starting a long time ago

When the slave ships crossed the Atlantic.

You truly matter.


And September rolled around, barely free from summer’s grasp.

Hospitals crammed full of people who couldn’t gasp,

And yet the world continued on and on.


Little baby blue robins went tweety tweety two.

They chirped to the man,

“No, why should I vote for you?”

Then the carrier pigeons came and crashed into the glass,

Dropping many ballots, making red parrots chant,

“You didn’t listen, I told you so yet alas.”


It felt like tug-o-war, or something of that sort,

Children pulling left, and children pulling right.

But to middle me, all I saw was plight

As the mud sludge slept beneath our feet,

The grudges were setting us all up for defeat.

Well, what can you do? I guess that’s where I’m beat.


And as the parties and the counters were flipping states,

My good friend Marty was flipping patties for meek rates,

Feeling bent on helping pay his parents’ rent.

With the entire nation on the edge of their seats,

Politicians were feeling the heat,

Yet, by the end of the week

There still was no verdict.


Soon arrived the once happiest time of the year

Where shopping, hot chocolate, and Christmas cheer

Just weren’t the same as they used to be.