How paint thee hate mired in blood of brother?
Where vile cruel death hath an accomplice
Whose eye hath turned blindly from another;
That sorrow’s tear hath wept grave injustice
Where princes murder and mayhem doth live
As citizen’s die an untimely death;
Hence, the quiet streets no longer forgive;
For thine expir’d corpse tis void of breath
Cankered hate hath strangled hope’s noble deed;
Though spirits rise entreating brave souls hear
That hate conquered by love tis slav’ry freed;
And joy’s fair face n’er shed anger’s tear
So bear thee hence and be thee ever clear;
Where daffodils bloom heav’n doth vanquish fear.
(This sonnet is dedicated to Floyd George, a 45-year-old African-American man who died, on the streets of Minneapolis, at the hands of law enforcement on May 25, 2020. May he rest in peace.).