#blacklivesmatter Poem by Tennessee West

How many fathers, sons, nephews,
daughters, sisters, aunts,
mothers, cousins,
friends, colleagues
can you bury
when your heart and your hands and your soul have gone numb
How many graves can you dig between incident and injury
between the oppressed and the oppressor
between the morning and nightly news
How many morgues must you visit
How many trials must you watch
before you realize justice is not there
Justice came in a church
Justice came in the middle of the street
Justice came in a parking lot
A park
A playground
A home
A club
A theatre
A public area
Alone

How many lives have to matter?
How many hearts have to go without?