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526 Seconds
December 5, 2020
Kneeling is meant to honor the king,
but you have used it to crush a commoner.
You have become the oppressor
I always feared you were.
I cry for Mama.
Childish, I know.
When children play games of strength,
it stops when someone cries in pain.
This is no child’s game.
It does not end when I can’t breathe.
Nothing happens when I say, “please.”
The word has lost its magic.
They say if you’re about to die,
your life will flash before your eyes.
I see no flash,
only a growing dimness.
I welcome the fading world,
knowing when I wake up,
air will fill my lungs again.
© Brittany L., Wolfforth, TX
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Though it happened only a few months ago, George Floyd's death seems like it happened a lifetime ago, and is something we have all moved past. But I'm not ready to forget him quite yet. This is a poem written from the perspective of and in honor of George Floyd. I don't know what he was thinking for the last 8 minutes and 46 seconds (or 526 seconds) of his life, but I wanted to try to convey the terror, disbelief, and reality of his situation.