The prairie wind still carries his name,
tied to the crossbeam under empty sky.
A boy became a beacon in the flame.
October frost had sharpened every claim—
two men with bottles, hatred in each eye.
The prairie wind still carries his name.
They beat the light from him, left him maimed,
a scarecrow sagging where the barbed wires sigh.
A boy became a beacon in the flame.
No passing headlights pierced that lethal game;
thirteen hours alone, too cold to cry.
The prairie wind still carries his name.
His gentle hands that sketched and dreamed of fame
were swollen shut beneath the starless dye.
A boy became a beacon in the flame.
We legislate the sorrow, speak his shame,
yet somewhere new another tether lies.
The prairie wind still carries his name—
a boy became a beacon in the flame.
-
Author:
Matthew R. Callies (
Offline) - Published: June 16th, 2026 07:28
- Comment from author about the poem: Poem number 16 of Pride Month. This poem is about the murder of Matthew Shepard an American student at the University of Wyoming who was beaten, tortured, and left to die near Laramie on October 6, 1998. For more context, visit https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Shepard
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: Bloodletters and Badmen, The Continuance of Us.
Offline)
Comments2
Sad one of many instances such. A person I know was beaten by a gang of five or six nearly to death but latter got justice in court against all. Well written
My friend, this brought me right back to that era as well. The internet was still young, yet somehow people found ways to gather, mourn, and bear witness together. I remember those early online memorials and vigils feeling surprisingly powerful. Reading this stirred some of those memories. I sadly remember Matthew's death like it was yesterday. 😭 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
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