in a field, far from you
looms a skeletal, rusted cross planted in concrete
an emblem of murder.
Imagine the way
his body hung in the seat belt,
bullets shattered bone & glass
eyes closed in a light sleep
or staring open, haunted with last loss?
Were there people who screamed for him?
See how the blood ran out, over the seat and pooled
probably by the footbrake
On this day, 32 years ago, four shots ended the life of this great man.
Not to say I agree with absolutely everything he did, but there is always something to everyone you don’t agree with – I respect him regardless.
Seriously though – imagine if everyone was really living life in peace? Truly, really, living for today?
May the world live as one.