Tiesha, Tiesha
Young black angel lost in the night
life gone
struck down 23 times in flight
by the end of the night
shots flared in repetition
orange bright light
on the darkest night
fighting against the rage of four sites
hawkeye scouts with an eagles eye, cold as ice
beat up against the car door without love of life
without the outstretched arms that cradle a small child
in the night
against the rage of tears that stole her fight
screams
cold left for dead dreams
left without a means
only the cold crime scene
yellow tape that defined her fate
before her time
before her time
life gone without a prayer
lost
like the white house without a chair
city without a mayor
church without a prayer
game of life without a dare
only the cold stare of the black angel's light
extinguished too young
too late at night
as the dark waves came in to shore
and carried her away
not even a devil should be left on death's gate
without a prayer, without a way.

--

Influences:  This poem was inspired by the death of Tiesha Miller. A
young, black woman who was gunned down in her darkest hour by four
well armed cops. This poem represents my outcry for a reformation of
the police system and  a plea to end the cycle of violence that has
plagued our society far too long. Too many lives lost. GOD HELP US
ALL. Peace and Jah Love, Brett.