Nightmare on A City Street

A nightmare unfolded just recently

Not altogether unexpected,

Just a matter of time some had surmised

But most convincingly projected.

Yet when it happened, strangely enough,

Many were still surprised,

Considering not much had been done to stem it

So, again two worlds collide.

There was some element of deja vu

Like this had happened before

Which added a surreal nature to the event

As though it was staged once more.

In living colour, not black and white

Like in the days of not so long ago,

This nightmare unfolded on a city street

As though it was Hollywood on show.

 

It was the grimmest thing you ever saw

Like the treatment given to a centipede,

Words that would melt the hardest heart

Yet the perpetrator would not yield.

How the viewers of that awful event

Wish to that request they could accede!

But they were powerless, whatever good intent,

When the victim gasped, “I can't breathe.”

Not that it had not happened before,

It had, and not very long ago,

To another human being of similar ethnicity

And that event too was on show.

This one carried a certain nonchalance

As though it was a gladiatorial display,

Just like the victor would subdue his opponent

Way back in those Roman days.

  

Then, that was the accepted standard

Particularly if the opponent was an enemy,

The victim and his fellowmen were made a spectacle;

This was a gladiatorial show of victory.

Never mind it happened on a city street

At the hands of servants who swore to protect,

It has been happening with such frequency

That it must be high time for a reality check.

This time, more than like any other,

There was a certain imperial attitude,

It was like the perpetrator was untouchable

And the victim was simply paying his dues.

As though this was his destiny-

Just awaiting the whim of his executioner

Or, to put it in a more favourable light,

Destined to die the death of a martyr.

I keep on hearing these heart wrenching words

They just would not go away,

You see, I happen to be the same complexion

And I have family that live over there.

What if it were my biological brother?

Or, my nephew… or great nephew?

It is their faces I am seeing in this nightmare

And I tell you it is a horrific view!

  

If every man has a limit, and I believe he has,

Then it has to be the “I can't breathe” limitation,

Surely, at this point a man must fight back

To ensure his continuation.

Something had better be done and quickly

Besides the rhetoric and fancy foot moves,

Or, even the decent black people in America

Will decide they have something to prove.

   

That they have no less value that any other,

That they are not the perpetrators of all crime,

That they are no longer only good to be enslaved

And that they deserve to have some free time.

  

That the law not only applies to them

But to all, regardless of their colour or class,

And that unless the authorities take urgent note

These current protests will never be past.

Black people, like the whites, have dreams,

They dream of a better day

When like the whites they can walk in freedom

And like the whites, can also have their say.

Stewart Russell © June 2020