Here is a poem I wrote in response to the tragedies in Minneapolis
“I’m Not Mad at You”
They look like storm troopers,
faces hidden, belts hung with guns, rifles drawn.
They invade in packs, like angry dogs.
They killed Good, then Pretti.
They’re taking aim at Trust and Freedom.
Her sweet face looking out at him, she said
“I’m not mad at you,” just before he shot her
three times.
Before she died in her car on that street,
her wife looking on,
her child in school nearby.
They tackled him to the ground
on the snow and ice
pepper spray in the face
held him while they shot him in the back
ten times.
“Assassins!” “Terrorists!” they called them
after they died. “Insurrectionists!”
They were caregivers, aiding others,
outraged.
ICE in the winter city.
ICE on the road.
I am mad. We are mad. We must all be mad.
Sylvia Patience, Author 