I refuse to cry
When the streets the hood the game the set the side the ni66a
Senselessly snatch anotha brotha my student my future-heaven hopes
For pleasure or payback or wrong place at the worst time
I refuse to cry on several levels.
The father in me refuses to cry
because if he did a raging river of wet regret
would mix with the red dirt made redder
with the blood of a setting son
and an angry red-hot lava
would roll across this campus. Then
The son in me would yell
a continuous cathartic God-reaching shout
shaking the shook-up family
already in mourning tonight
and the stars in the sky would flee from fear
and a liquid blue-black despair
would roll across this campus. Then
The brother in me deaf to reason
would seek a current blind vengeance
only responding to my voice and will,
and together he and I will seek retribution
seek an eye for an eye a hand for a hand
a stilled heart for a stolen heart
innocent smiles and wishes would be shoved aside
and a wave of would've-could've-should've wrath
would roll across this campus. Then
The teacher in me would die...
And then two sons would set before their time. So
I refuse to cry now, not in front of you my students,
Not in front of administrators unaware
of the dream stolen from in front of them
like an unlocked Mayback with the engine running.
I reuse to cry.
I refuse to cry because my tears would couple with
the matriarch's of a shattered home
and I'd lose my way back to sanity--I refuse to cry.
I refuse to cry...now.
I will pick the time and place
Lord willing
When and where my tears will seek release from a saddened soul
And not the throat of thirsty blind revenge.
Otherwise, as your teacher,
I've taught you nothing.