He Couldn'T Breath

The inhuman white creatures followed him, The dreaded beast among them struck, The black man fell on the street like a wounded stag, He was so weak now, like a shrunk cedar. Knee as harsh as tropical grass, Hard, sharp, and glittering as a sword, Pressing his neck and slowly detaching his life, Just because his skin is black. The racist's face was pitiless, like those by sculptor graved for niches in a temple, His two white hands like swans on a frozen lake, Were symbols of death, The innocent black man yelled but to no avail. The monster couldn't let him go, His invectives and vituperations bite and flay like steel whips, The African blood gasped for breath, Life was melting away like snow in a thaw. And he said, "Please, I can't breath, My neck hurts, Everything hurts" But that didn't save him from the hands of the Minneapolis villainous police officer, Sadly, he suffocated and died. An Everestus Annie Stewart's poem © 2020 This poem is dedicated to George Floyd, an African-American man, whose death occurred in Minneapolis on May 25, 2020, when Derek Chauvin, a white Minneapolis police officer, knelt on Floyd's neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds; 2 minutes and 53 seconds of which occurred after Floyd became unresponsive, according to the criminal complaint filed against Chauvin. Floyd was handcuffed and lying face down on the road, while Chauvin had his knee on his neck.