For Trayvon Martin

They say you must have died
while walking down a supposedly safe street
when you confronted a strange man
following you and harrassing you because of the color
of your skin and the clothes you wore.

And you did most certainly die
because you were walking in a part of the world
where self-appointed protectors-of-us-all
can shoot first and ask questions
later.

Shedding tears over you,
someone I’ve never met and know so little of
does neither of us any good; yet
I could not help myself.

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