I was confused, by asphalt bruised,
As his life oozed, his pleas refused.
Now my police bow a knee,
My first response says “I disagree –
That very posture took a life.”
Yet now it somehow calms the strife
A soothing balm for grieving souls,
Instead of heaping burning coals.
I start to perceive a paradox
In this grim Pandora’s box.
And I override my urges,
and my soul its hatred purges.
I must choose healing
Though we’re reeling.
Bruised, moved, diffused.
(Image retrieved 6/1/2020, from https://images.app.goo.gl/ZnuWx3kwLSKnzbMk9).
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