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by D’Andre Moore
I hear your cry, sista.
I see the tears in your eyes, sista.
I know.
You look like my own sista.
Seventeen years old when she cried,
When she lost me.
Not to a policeman’s bullet
But to a judge’s gavel.
Let’s think,
If Lovelle hadn’t refused to go back,
Would he have been harmed anyway?
The BART assassination.
Had he been the only one to lose,
Would the story have made breaking news?
Pac called it a white man’s world.
We see it at work every day, in every way
From Fruitvale to 98th,
From International to the 580.
But Lovelle’s spirit is free
Because he rejected captivity.
This is difficult to understand
Unless you’re an incarcerated man.
But you are so much more.
Enjoli, you are someone who loves us.
So please, sista, please keep ya head up.
Send our brother some love and light: D’Andre Moore, 104067, P.O. Box 8939, San Luis AZ 85349.
