I was told that people do not know how deeply Trayvon Martin’s murder affected me. They don’t understand why I wrote the book.
Here I share with you why in the best way I know how to express my feelings.
Trayvon and Me
God help me please!
Why won’t this leave!
He’s not my kin not even a friend.
I’m scared. I’m obsessing.
Am I losing my mind?
I can’t tell anyone.
I’m crying all the time.
Can’t sleep! Can’t eat!
Can’t even be upbeat.
The yelling. The screams for help.
I can’t get them out of my mind.
It’s not fair. No one was there.
Someone help him! Help him please!
I’m begging on my knees.
I will find out what happened.
I will make them pay.
If it were their kids, it would be the other way.
The wrong ones got away.
This is another Zimmerman day.
He murdered him!
I’m enraged and ready to engage.
I try not to hate, but it seems to late.
I must walk. I must get out of here.
I walk and I walk until my mind gets clear.
I’m not helpless. I can help win this fight!
Trayvon, I promise you I will speak for right.
I research. I write. I research. I write.
Not knowing this was healing me too.
My mind is filled with thoughts.
Analyzing this and analyzing that.
The thoughts are so fast. How can they last.
I’m like a computer that won’t shut down.
I’m tossing and turning and the thoughts are still churning.
I need real sleep. This can’t go on.
I won’t make it to the end.
I sense spirits all around me. Why won’t they just let me be?
Very bad timing. I feel they are haunting me.
I am awakened out of my sleep by a voice.
It says be not afraid. God is here.
I have little fear, but the spirits stay near.
I must finish this. I must get this done.
Where will I find the motivation to complete this run?
Writing, reading, researching. Writing, reading, researching.
I see no light at the end of the tunnel?
But plenty people have invested in me.
My parents, my teachers, mentors, friends, and other family.
They wouldn’t expect any less from me.
I owe them this much and this much it shall be.
I’m almost done, but this was no fun.
This is the story of tragedy.
Amazingly though, I have been set free.
No tears. No appetite loss.
No hate or rage or desire to engage.
It’s said the pen is mightier than the sword, but will this be?
I’ve done my part, but more must be done.
This is not just for history.
It’s for taking action so all can be free!
© 2016 Gina McGill