Usually I stay calm when a storm brews
I indulge so little in emotion to keep my thoughts much clearer than the clouds that form before me.
But these days, the storms brew so strong my boat staggers at the sight of it.
I try to keep calm but the winds and the ocean collude to topple my patience and waiver me.
These days are much darker, the clouds much more robust in anger. So heavy in the sky, causing heaviness in my eyes.
And their cries crack through the sky in loud thunderings as they light the atmosphere with the whip of their pain.
And I stay trying not just to keep calm, but to keep my feet.
But the signs show it will get increasingly harder.
The peace I desire to see when the clouds dissipate and the sun touches my face, seems increasingly more far fetched.
Because they that stir the waters and enrage them seek no longer to do it in the night time. They unveil themselves with pride, in broad daylight. Armed with the cloak of justice and cloaking injustice in their hearts. Tasked with duty to serve, yet they only serve to stir unrest. To serve themselves. To stir a storm.
Once again they have come
A seemingly unthinkable thing, they have done.
What they'd usually do with a gun
Now so brazen with evil
They kneel with the weight of cruelty
On an innocent one.
They take our breathes away with this injustice once more.
And now the storm has come
And while some will run
Some will cower
Some will come to the aid of those who have been oppressed and battered
Still I ask myself the questions yet to be answered.
What happens after the storm?
Same things that happened after the storms before?
Will it be better or worse?
Will the stirrers slow down, or will they stir with more force?
Will the storm devour or will it be devoured once more?
When the rubble settles, do we hate or love more?
One thing's certain though.
There's no choice for George Floyd.