JC Napier "Homes"

His skin was black, but
His smile was bright - only 16
Walking to his Auntie's
The bullet considered none of this
It's high-wire journey was impolite and
Never acknowledged its mistake
His mother hoped, hearing the shouts
Briefly believed
But often are such fragile things dashed
Smashed like dropped eggs on pavement
When did these lives become unhooked, so
Disconnected that we are pained to hear them
But soon, we forget
His aspirations, her long hours of
Cooking, cleaning, school lessons checked
Intricate dreams
Built on sand
Protected as best we can but
Still swept away by unseen waves
Forgotten like vacation fortresses
Carried out to sea

dg

4/11/11

Sent from my iPad
http://jdavidgamble.blogspot.com/

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