Somehow, I can't fall back into my every day routine without my mind creeping back to the horror of this past Wednesday. I listened on the radio as somehow was executed. That reality haunts me, that we've come to this in our history. That we listen to people being unjustly killed. That radio programs and tv shows count ratings as folks crowd in to stay aware of someone's murder. Wow.
Troy Davis' execution was so highly traumatic for me. I will admit that I never openly condemned the death penalty, but, it isn't because I don't disagree with it. My opinion and advocacy has always been around addressing the corrupt legal system first. A legal system that disproportionately imprisons black people and enforces policy borne through slavery is not something our country should be upholding. Troy Davis' case, infused with all types of inaccuracies, questionable doubt and inconsistencies deserved a fair trial and that never happened. Not only should he not been executed, he should, most likely, not even have been imprisoned.
That's why when folks bring up the executions of other people who have been executed since Davis' death, I can honestly say that I'm not there yet. My issue isn't the death penalty simply, and its morally wrong existence. I am dismayed with our entire justice system, focused on how to assist in its dismantling and rebirth.
A poem for Troy Davis
Bits of information about his life floated like ripped pieces of gossamer
along the wind tunnel formed between mouths and fingers on keyboards,
tap, tap, tapping his name out in full standing
Troy Anthony Davis
lived. unevenly in the minds of those outside
composed from a collage of recanted testimonies, dusty memories and clipped quotes,
he breathed but for a moment on the outside his prison, slowly pieced together,
glued incohesively together from tears, pleas and acknowledgements on his behalf.
His name tethered to the emblem of injustice. Red, white and blue. Stars falling.