And Ain't She Got A Right To The Tree Of Life?

182 days
I think that's about right--
Now before you get any ideas, I'm not here to eulogize...
(testify, signify or any of that jive)
I'm not here to--
well
I don't know why I'm here.
None of us should be here, Not here when you think about it.
We, the children of Chicago grow up with
hyper segregation in our hearts
not always knowing when injustice is being served
because for the most part there's no justice
it's just us.

Where my disciples at?
My disciples of love
soliders ready to deploy into the battle fields of the
South Side
I'm on, the battle field for my lords-
Where's the code? Of honor? What happened to the days charming organized crime in Chicago-

NO No no no darling, you've got it all wrong. There are no more gangs in Chicago. It's all interpersonal conflict, you see. Honey these children ain't loyal to nobody, but they own damn selves. And they'ont care if you walkin with your me-maw down the street after she just came off Dialysis--they shoot. They'ont care if it's broad daylight. They shoot. Cops? Shhiiiid. If squad cars is close--hell, I done seen gunfire right in front of cops while they was on a call for somethin else--Dick vehicles and everything--they shoot. They shoot you. Yo mama, Yo daddy, greasy greasy gran mammy AND they'll shoot a 6 month old baby. Jonlyah was six months old. Man...I can't call it.

I return home
And smile at my City.
My mothers house. My neighborhood. My Washington Park.
 Childhood rememberies flood my brain...
but then
I see them
My brothers?
Naw, we not from the same tribe.
Dressed in white tee shirts
pants saggin
skinny locs twisted (funny back in the day, brother's with dread locs meant righteous...now? thug)
lips blackened by dank
eyes as red as the blood be-speckled Stop signs.
I know my thoughts are limited
fueled by anger, disappointment and a seemingly broken spirit.
What is it, with this deleterious disregard for life?
Why do you hate, your skin so?
After being lynched, dragged, exploited and cast off as kafir to the world
we proclaimed
that we shall over come, because no lie can last forever.
This is where we've come.
Here?

Breaking the cold earth, to bury a 6 month old baby girl.

Come children, clap your hands and lift your heart upwards past the tree of life.
We speak her name.
And many others.
We are 
Gathered via printed publication, online access and televised punditry
to bid farewell.
To cry out "how dare they!"
to gnash, weep and wail
to turn the channel "quickly" because
Local news is so fucking depressing.
"Yes, I know we have to stay informed,
but I just can't watch it."
We all do what we can, right?
Huffington Post, Mother Jones, Al-Jeezera, Jezebel yeah I look on all their twitter feed.
Meanwhile if Colbert, Louis CK or Jon Boy Stewart ain't mention it
then, I didn't hear it.
It's just too fucking depressing.
6 month old slain by bullets.
6 months old?
Should I RT this? Jeeze, it's too early in my day to even think about this shit
Blah blah blah fiscal cliff
blah blah blah drones blah blah
gun blah control
Control! Janet Jackson got married on you bitches on the low
blah blah
Roma Downey blah jesus blah blah Obama is blah blah obviously the devil
blah blah CBS is a gross fucking blah blah bah net blah blah work
man I wish we could make this work.
Why can't we?
6months old?
I can't turn the channel.
Esc from the website
I can't switch the station.

This much we know--
For one hundred and eighty two days
(Six months)
Jonylah Watkins
a beautiful baby girl
skin the color of wheat
and eyes dark like the night sky
lived in this world.

She was a person.

A Babygirl who will
never make it to that year One.
that anniversary
that jubilee
notating the date in which an event took place that previous year
Her birth and her soul must be commemorated.
She had the right to life.

Rest now sweet angel.
When we're afraid of the dark, we'll look to your eyes in the night sky.
I'll be glad when we're planting trees, and not attaching RIP monuments to them.

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