A Poem

for this this time and place.  I have often been told that I am an honest person and honestly, I know when I am being dishonest.  I do. And I thought Travyon Martin and Michael Brown and so many other senseless deaths were sad.  But I wasn't honestly connecting the dots. 

What finally broke my heart was hearing a peace officer say, "My first duty is to come home at night."  I don't know, that's okay I guess.  It's not how I feel every day, but then I've never been shot at -- yet.  Part of me feels that if that is your philosophy, you might want to find a safer, different line of work. Because a young boy died that night, a black man always seems to be dying.  Then you act as if it's only as if a racoon that ran out on a lonely road and  got accidentally run over.  Nothing to see, move along, these things happen.

That might just be me being "angry at the sun." Or may I don't understand the poem.  Or may I don't understand anything.