In Loving Memory
Seandell Holliday
He died at 16, his midlife crisis started at 8
Young men, life expectancy, short
Not my words, his; he shared them
“Mr. Singleton, my goal is to make it to 21”
Five years short, never made it
He went to hang out, downtown, Chicago
Home of the Bean at Millennium Park
People visit from all over the world but this was different
I felt it, I didn’t know what happen but when I saw the news
I felt it, a severance, a breaking, a breach of life
Brokenness in the spirit realm and I knew it
Not his name, just the connection of sons dying
It’s normal but this was different, it felt close to home
The screams, the shrills, the shrieks, the flash, the bang, the loud, the shattering of eardrums
The… he… e…
B. E. A. N
Bullets entering another Negro
At the same time, a nation cries
The loss of another Black male, a nation dies
I am numb
It’s too familiar
It’s too close to home
And I’m thinking of my loved one whom I am still mourning after two years
My present stress traumatic disorder knocks at the door
I answer, all I see are silhouettes of young people
I didn’t meet them in this life; they visit me in the Spirit
And I fear again, chasing the dollar and a career
That I have failed to be human
Seandall, I’m sorry. Rest on!
