Southwest Struggle

I landed when I was eighteen in the midst of the summer heat.

Boiling not basking. Sun beating on my back.

Breaking any semblance of concentration that I had.

Day one as a reporter, they put me out on the streets.

They told me that on the mattress laid out before me.

A murder had been committed by none other than three teens.

Over the weekend, they each grabbed a few bricks and killed a homeless man it seemed.

But one of them claimed that he looked in the mirror “It was the devil, not me.”

It was surprisingly clean from what you might see

But in the sun if stopped and stared

You could see pieces of brain lying over there

And a dried pool of blood that you wouldn’t believe

I remember going into the court that day.

Looking into the eyes of alleged murderers

Watching as the lawyers pressed them further

For any denial, any chance they could get off based on what they had to say.

I watched helplessly as their mothers cried

My partner told me that I should help to give chase

So we could put a camera before the woman’s teary face

But who could really say how it was that poor man died

I never forgot what I saw at that courthouse

Every few years, I would follow up on this story

They stayed in my mind because I saw how gory

But it was a few fortnights before they found out

That somehow new evidence was discovered and had been overlooked

Those boys had been silent to cover for someone else

And even though they had every bit of proof as far as authorities could tell

Nobody cared for a nobody no justice for the man whose life they took

I’m here now knowing all this was senseless

I’m dropping the scheme that threaded these sentences

Injustice all around through political rancor

I know what I feel and it’s nothing but anger

To this day, this murder remains unsolved

They never released those who were involved

It was just cheaper to put those men aside

Lose the key and let them die

But by then, it was too late for them to say goodbye

Their poor old mother overcome by her grief was no longer alive

Leaving two toddler brothers and sisters

Doomed to be raised by the deadbeat mister

And I remember I

Sat down with a sigh

But they told me to work on a headline

Talking about how they cried

And the man who had died

And if it bled it’d attract eyes

To these people pushed to the side

And what the judge would decide

Their freedom denied

Because of the law misapplied

I went home exhausted

That morning confidence?

I lost it

I tried to sleep but I was distraught and

I knew I was hostage to the

Scene I had spotted and all that I wanted was to

Get my thoughts out my brain I was nauseous

I walked outside cautious

Because every person could be

The suspect? I hadn’t thought it

And so that night

I got right on my bike

Rolled onto that spot and there was no light

Something was quite

I could sense just not right

Who was standing there in the corner in the evening twilight?

I figured at that point, I don’t care if I have to write

Not risking, I’m leaving, I’m getting out of sight

Leaving the spot behind

Just put it out my mind

But now you know what curses me and we can both sit here wondering who did it