the fallen

in memory of the thousands killed in the streets

one wanted to make his mother proud-

blessed with quick reactions, quick feet,

he excelled on a field his oppressors ignored

until he wandered into the wrong alley.

one wanted to make her father proud-

so she studied to show herself approved

and walked into the night with no hijab

with every student from her neighborhood.

one wanted to live a life divorced from the past

driving down I-95 following the lights home,

the smell of cigarettes and dull perfume

and a photo of her cousin on a cell phone.

one wanted to spread joy as a cosmetic surgeon

to fix the smiles of thousands of damaged children

in a world so coarse, cold, and unforgiving

she stood against the sea of oppression and fear.

one wanted to be the strong one, who stood up to evil

though his parents pleaded with him to stay inside the house

he boldly proclaimed: If i don't go, nothing will change.

so, he slipped into the night, into the crowd and gave his life.

the fallen, all of them, so numerous in the street

the people, gunned down, lives cut short by hate.