A Black Lives Matter rally in my Westchester town
3 smart and motivated high school girls lead us
Their skin is darker than mine.
They were driven by fear and anger.
This was something they needed to do.
This was something I needed to do.
We say BLACK LIVES, you say MATTER
BLACK LIVES…MATTER; BLACK LIVES…MATTER.
They lead us in a moment of silence.
The moment was 8:46 seconds long.
A moment long enough for a life to expire.
I can’t even meditate that long.
The hundreds in my town were silent, some kneeling, tears beginning to fall as time dragged on.
There were birds, sunshine and shade in a small-town park, soft breezes.
George Floyd’s 8:46 seconds was quite different.
A hard city street, shouting, anger, pain.
Unable to breathe fully and freely, fear and hate surrounding him, a knee on his neck.
I sit and watch a hawk circle high above the crowd, I notice the blue sky and fluffy clouds, a mother rubs her sons back.
For us the grass is so green, the sun is so warm.
He sees blue uniforms and grey oil stained asphalt. He calls for his mother.
Sit and wait for 8:46 seconds. Feel the time.
If you begin to forget and life begins to numb your outrage,