Black Life Matters

We hear the cry that black lives matter. Yet we sit and sigh while more lives are scratched each day. But, when our sons are killed by others, our “community” programs initiate all sorts of protests in various ways.

Actually, all created life should be of equal concern—from the very moment that one is snatched away—with head laid down in death, loved ones too, also succumb and just about lose their way.

Not to mention the fact, that each time a “perp” is carted off to jail, another son is removed from the street. His dear family, then, is forced to meet the process of suffering from the cell—here yet is a different form of hell.

I agree that black life matters, but wherein do these lives hold their value? Is it only when stolen by one of a different race? When did the worth of our children so depreciate? Are these poor sons’ still not just as cut-down and shortened when murdered by one’s own clone?

It would appear that we complain more loudly in protest when the lives of our boys’ are shortened by someone of another color, than when our lifecycles are stolen by the actions of our own—(someone with deep, dark tones).

Why are we not distraught when our children are caught (either as victims of violent death or as a prisoner for their crime)? Are these stolen lives suddenly more meaningful when killed by others, over those losses which are reported to occur over 100,000 times?

When the media cries in protest that black life matters too, are we to believe that black life slayed by someone else is deemed worthy of more praise or that we must evoke just cause? For these hundreds of slaughtered ones, is there no healing gauze?

The truth be told, it would appear that we are prone to loudly object when black lives are prematurely checked by someone who sits in the other net. But we are curiously mousy quiet and refuse to fuss when these deaths are attributed to those who seem to look like one of us.

Though we may demonstrate, and cry and chatter for a while, it makes one wonder, just how much—really, does black shattered life matter—though the truth cuts like a knife, how long before we take up this fight?


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