By Beau Beausoleil
June 25, 2020
He rose
from his street grave
as a Prophet
His last words
became our first
words
“I can’t breathe”
And the
feeling is one
of terror
and suffocation
followed
by a rage
filled with history
We have raised
his burial shroud
above our individual lives
like a flag
And each day we
march under it
towards
this country and ourselves
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