|
Another shooting on the southeast side. |
|
This a drive-by, mid-day, |
|
Outside of the bus stop, by |
|
Fuller and |
|
Franklin. |
|
Or near there. |
|
Not far from the park. |
|
About a block from where the other shooting was last |
|
Month. Or was it last week? |
|
Shots were fired from an |
|
SUV heading northbound, |
|
Eastown, The target a rival but they didn't hit the target this time. |
|
They hit a kid we think had nothing to do with it. |
|
And I travel backwards through time and space and |
|
I disintegrate, become |
|
Invisible. |
|
I want to see it where |
|
I couldn't when it happened. |
|
I want to see it all first hand this time. |
|
I want to know what it felt like. |
|
So I float behind police lines, reconstruct the scene in fragments of |
|
Memories. |
|
I want to know what his mother looked like up close, |
|
I want to see her |
|
Leaning over his body. |
|
So I float there, transcend time. |
|
I want to capture it accurately. |
|
I want to know what the color of the blood was spilling out from the tarp |
|
Onto the concrete. |
|
I want to write it all down so |
|
I can always remember. |
|
If you could see it up close how could you ever forget how senseless death, |
|
How precious life. |
|
I want to be there when the bullet hit. |
|
And the crowd poured out as the shots drowned into siren sounds, out of |
|
There houses now |
|
And over front yards, all the way up to the place where the police tape ran |
|
To mark the crime |
|
Scene. Everybody trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening, |
|
Of what was going on between the ambulance and all the cop cars. |
|
Everybody gossiping, "Whose kid got hit? Where'd it hit him? And who Could've fired it?" |
|
Everybody wondering, "How did it happen again? And is he dead? These Children. Our kids." |
|
Everybody wondering how far they were from where the victims lived. |
|
And I visit them, their houses. |
|
Inside my dream |
|
I visit them. |
|
My spirit, soaring high and high up over |
|
King Park, leaves the crime scene, |
|
Travels further back |
|
Till far before the shooting, through their windows, to their living rooms. |
|
I see them younger this time, playing games and doing homework. |
|
All these marks of youth soon transformed coldly into stone for fights and |
|
Stupid feuds. |
|
For ruins wrapped in gold. |
|
And cruelly |
|
I recall why |
|
I have come: |
|
To find a |
|
Reason. But |
|
There cannot be a reason, not for death, not like this. |
|
Not like this. |
|
Three days later they made funeral plans. |
|
The family. |
|
Three days later a mother had to bury her son. |
|
Not far away the shooter holed up in a hotel near to the highway with a |
|
Friend and the gun. |
|
That same gun. |
|
He'd fled immediately but was identified by witnesses, his |
|
Picture on |
|
TV. Only 20 years old, they called him "Grandpa." |
|
He was older than the others |
|
By a year, |
|
Maybe two. |
|
And he was safe for awhile until somebody saw him there and notified the |
|
Authorities |
|
Who surrounded the hotel, first arresting an accomplice while attempting to |
|
Flee, Then chasing him up the staircase to the floor where he'd stayed. |
|
He closed |
|
The door hard |
|
Behind him, locked himself in the room. |
|
They could've kicked in the door but knew the gun was still with him, |
|
One he'd already used and so they feared what he'd do. |
|
I floated up through the window of a room to the |
|
West. I hovered out to the hallway, tried to listen in. |
|
I heard them trying to reason, get him to open the door. |
|
His uncle begging and pleading, half-collapsed to the floor. |
|
He preached of hope and forgiveness, |
|
Said, "There is always a chance to rectify what you've taken, make your Peace in the world." |
|
I thought to slip through the door, |
|
I could've entered the room, |
|
I felt the burden of murder, it shook the earth to the core. |
|
Felt like the world was collapsing. |
|
Then we heard him speak, "Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself? Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself? Can I ever be forgiven cuz I killed that kid? It was an accident I swear it wasn't meant for him! And if I turn it on me, if I even it out, can I still get in or will they Send me to hell? Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself?" |
|
I left the hotel behind, don't want to know how it ends. |