Danger
Run little black boy
Run away, run away
But my legs wouldn’t move
I felt like my legs were glued to the pavement
My little 10 year old eyes shouldn’t have seen what I saw
I could almost taste the blood as it was punchin’ out of him
Screams and screams and screams was all I could hear
But da sound of a da gun, caused me to close my eyes
Some ask what did I see?
Well this is what I saw
It was me, the bullets were rippin’ through
But why me?
But as the bullets ripped through me
Like a creature was comin’ out of my soul
It caused me to open my eyes and there it was…
A lifeless Body
Just layin’ with his eyes open
But was he alive? Was he dead?
Why were his eyes open?
I wonder if he saw me?
Did I know this human being who was killed right in front of me?
Was God sendin’ me a message?
I guess this da reason why I can’t cry at night
Because I see the ones that are dead and not the ones that are alive
My mommy once told me
Everything happens for a reason
But for what reason was it for me to see a life taken?
So as I walked slowly to da person
I saw his eyes begin to close and words became to drift out his mouth….
“Run shorty run”
So I took off runnin’
But when I was tired of runnin’ it was dat sound again
The Gun
This time it was even louder
Almost as if it was right beside me
And there I was stuck again
To where you ask?
Right there on the pavement
Where it all started
I watched da killer take the last breath out of a human I barely knew
7 years later, a wonderful lady gave me a challenge to tell her what Danger looks
like
Well…
Danger is black
Danger is loud
Danger is life
Danger is Death
Danger is a human who would take another human from this earth
Danger is right in front of you
Just open your eyes and look.
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The poets featured here are currently incarcerated, and many of them are in federal prisons far from home. Your feedback is a valuable source of motivation and connection to the outside community. Post your comments, feedback, and encouragement in the space below the poem. Messages will be passed on directly to the author. Comments may not appear immediately on the site, as our team processes them to mail to the poets.
This is vivid, this is humbling, this is powerful. I want to believe you’re describing a dream/nightmare but this probably was all too real for you. The trauma that you experienced is scary to consider – to watch a murder and flee the killer. How long have you been trying to run away from that monster. That feeling of being stuck to the ground when you’re trying to run away is such a familiar nightmare.
Thank you for sharing this.