A History Of Violence, Without Justice.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

this is a picture
taken about twenty five years
ago,
of two lawyers, in a party,
where food is luscious,
and camaraderie is common,
a brotherhood of men
filled with idealism and
action,

if you only knew the story
which was told once and not
likely to be retold since it
was filled with pain and
grief on the part of the kid
who saw it and on the part
of the widow who
suffered for a long time, until
she went to another country
to start her life all over again
and forget, and keep her faith
in love and life,

but this is the story,
the guy wearing eyeglasses was
murdered right in his own home
while preparing pleadings for
his case in court,
and writing an article for a
newspaper publication, about
corruption and smuggling,


a hired gunman arrived with no fear
entered his law office and shot
him on his head, while his son
who was then playing in the room saw
everything, who was left in shock
and could not say anything,

blood sputtered on the face of
the boy, and the lawyer fell dead
on the spot, where another
history of violence was again
replayed, on and on and on and
on, like broken record in an old
player.