The Scales

Today, consternation found my way while

In preparation for a snow day siesta

I dove deeply into some outlaw poetry

Taking in the angst and commentary

From some of the sharpest scribes

Then on page 621 was Mumia

His name is mud in these parts

And I went ahead a read his poem

Which I kind of liked, but felt like I shouldn’t because

Yesterday, in the City of Brotherly Love

Another officer sworn to serve and protect

Found himself answering the call of duty

During a robbery at a video game store

He lost his life leaving a young family behind

Officer Wilson and Officer Faulkner

Men doing a job

Men wasted by evil

In the faces of these two young guys 

Intent on robbing a store and preserving their lives

At the cost of another

I see the last line of the poem,

Written by man convicted of killing a cop,

“I dedicate this shield,”

And I wonder what he meant

Is he honoring police or suggesting

More be dropped?

I don’t know.

I know being a police officer is tough

Working jobs where each shift could bring unthinkable violence

Answering calls where someone doesn’t want them there

Working within rules that may set them up for failure

See Ferguson as an example

One thing I know, though,

We need police

We need honest police

We need impartial police

We need policing that represents all people

We need these cop killers locked up

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