A poem a day for 2013 - day 70 - For Kimani Gray, for all of us, and for you too

Sixteen years old
Flatbush
New York
Brooklyn
City life
Black life
Babies
Black babies again
And again
Shot down by police
Witnesses say he was
Fixing his belt
Screaming 
"Stop, stop! Don't let me die!"
Kimani Gray
Kimani Gray
See how your mouth 
Has to smile 
When you say both his names
I did not know Kimani Gray
Kimani Gray
And somehow I know all of the 
Kimani Grays
All of their brown faces
Messied 'round my bones
Like gravel in my swallow
Every
Single 
Time
I hear
Too many city streets
Lit up like hell
Candles burning corners
Where our babies died
We don't want burning candles
We want our babies back
We want you to mouth their names
In your prayers
Your songs
Your thoughts
Your cereal, your soup
We want you to see our babies
Our boys
Our black boys
Those big tired eyes
Afraid for the day
This is no way to live
This is no way to live
But then you already know
You already
Know