The jury’s decision, on the Trayvon Martin case this past weekend is having a prolonged effect on me. The popping sounds of gunshots often reverberate in my dreams, turning them into nightmares. Pop! I see the smiling face of my best friend’s son; shot dead in August 1992. Pop! I am sitting in church attending the funeral of my cousin’s son; shot dead in January 2006. Pop! Thanks to pictures published by the media, I am haunted by numerous photos of the unsuspecting face of Trayvon Martin; shot dead in February 2012. All young black men all senselessly murdered by other men; callous men, who disregarded the God-given lives of Kenneth, Ray, and Trayvon, in order to pursue their own personal agenda and murder their victims.
George Zimmerman, killer of Trayvon Martin even had the nerve to say on the Hannity talk show that “it was all God’s plan” for him to kill Trayvon. HOW DARE HE! It is the peak of pomposity and arrogance for Zimmerman to say that God sent him to murder that teen. No one should blame God for their own irresponsible actions.
Having now publicly vented my anger, perhaps I will be able to sleep through the night without hearing phantom gunshots, envisioning young black men being senselessly murdered, and waking up with tears in my eyes.
This post is purposely shorter than those I normally write; short like the lives of the three previously mentioned young black men who now sleep eternally.