The words came quickly: "that looks like a bad dude"
as if he were subhuman, deplorable, and crude.
He bore God's perfect image, formed in his mother's womb.
Now he rests in heaven on the other side of the tomb.
Pundits plead their cases and cold hearts' defend their steel
From the streets, a man's blood cries. His family weeps and reels.
No longer will he sing with the choir in his church.
This sad reality should make your stomach lurch.
I watch and mourn, but cannot say "what if it'd been me?"
For men like me tend not to suffer such brutality.
The voice of my brother's blood calls out from stony ground,
His blood -- red, like mine -- seeps from a crumpled mound.
When God demands answers, I am my brothers keeper.
Though injustice should abound, may His mercy run much deeper.
as if he were subhuman, deplorable, and crude.
He bore God's perfect image, formed in his mother's womb.
Now he rests in heaven on the other side of the tomb.
Pundits plead their cases and cold hearts' defend their steel
From the streets, a man's blood cries. His family weeps and reels.
No longer will he sing with the choir in his church.
This sad reality should make your stomach lurch.
I watch and mourn, but cannot say "what if it'd been me?"
For men like me tend not to suffer such brutality.
The voice of my brother's blood calls out from stony ground,
His blood -- red, like mine -- seeps from a crumpled mound.
When God demands answers, I am my brothers keeper.
Though injustice should abound, may His mercy run much deeper.
His name was Terence Crutcher and his life mattered.
Black Lives Matter
Thanks to Kim Danneker for helping make this readable.
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