Haunted By Their Faces

Haunted By Their Faces

Dime bag, dime bag!
Then the familiar blast
of gunfire bombards the senses.
The red essence of life
flows toward sewers,
and many black men
find their bodies in gutters
among the shards of glass
shining like stars.

Haunted by their faces:

Nurseries filled with premature babies
unable to eat, unable to sleep.
Mother’s milk restricted
to keep these lives
from staying addicted.
For those that survive
life is no easy feat,
When they are healthy enough
to be put in the street.

Haunted by their faces:

I an urban knight
with a four inch shield,
dressed in my blue armor
still brave enough to feel.
So many that stand on that thin blue line
say why worry.
It’s their plight,
but I refuse,
to give up this fight.

So, I am haunted by their faces.