Gunshots

Tonight I lay my head down, but the pressure never stops. Knowing that

another kid just has been shot. Shot because of the signs he was throwing.

cut and creased with his color rag showing.

It was all fun and games for him, but now it’s just a shame. Like most kids,

he did what he saw on TV, he replicated the game. Every time I saw him,

that bandana he revealed, “Well homie let me ask you, how many cholos

have you killed?” You just wear the colors; you ain’t down for the violence.

This is why they got you, and put you into silence.

I’m standing on your grave. With tears falling down, this memory of you is

what I save. You had so much you could do, but yet you didn’t care. Every

\time I think of it, these things I cannot bear.You passed before your time,

you felt the shadows depth. So many things to say, before you reached your

death. Now there’s no more luck, there’s no 4-leaf clover, As far as you’re

concerned, your whole life is over. But if this is what you wanted, to be in a

so-called gang, You should have thought real hard,

do you really want to bang.

And now you walk into the light, it’s been so hard to say goodbye, you

shine in every face you left behind, and I just hope to see you again

in another life.

Each day we are faced with decisions… what to do with our lives? To whom

should we give our trust? As a young person, the road ahead seems so

distant. We want what is in front of us, what we can grab right now. Our

blindness to the possible future outside our immediate situation

perpetuates our lack of vision to the endless possibilities that await us.

Being faced with a life sentence more times than not anchors our

arrogance to pause long enough to use our own thoughts. We begin to ask

ourselves, “Is that what I really want – a reputation as a down, solid-vato

homeboy”? Granted some of us come from what is called a broken

home – abusive parents, foster care workers, etc. Abuse in all its forms can

destroy our foundation. But along the way have we not asked ourselves,

“Is this the life I want – a throw-away person. An outcast, an outsider who

has lost all form of human reason and decency, someone who acts out of

anger, someone who has no control over himself, And now you walk into

the light, it’s been so hard to say goodbye, you shine in every face you left

behind, and I just hope to see you again, in another life.

Where do we draw the line between what’s going to benefit us to create

a life with real meaning or a life spent completely without control inside a

prison where almost every moment of the day our lives are monitored?

This is a question only each of us can answer, because no matter what

others may tell us, we alone make a difference in our own lives. We can

choose to take our power back to wake up to maturity, and start taking the

hard road ahead outside our affiliations, or we can surrender and continue

to let others do the thinking for us. It’s our own life, our own story. Who

writes it?? That is our decision to make. a person who will only keep losing

control whether inside jail or outside, always under the supervision of

some guard, police, probation officer, parole officer, correction officer? So,

to whom do we owe our loyalty?