A Poem In The Aftermath

In August, my hometown of Kenosha experienced a great deal of civil unrest following the Jacob Blake incident. I wrote this poem after driving through the aftermath with my own children. 

Hey, kids?
Look out the window.

Do you see the piles of rubble?
Soot-stained brick and broken glass?
Do you see the car lot smoldering?
That mattress atop the ash?
Do you see the paint-splashed plywood?
The messages of hope?
Do you see the people in the park?
A human kaleidoscope?

Hey, kids?
Roll down the window.

Do you hear the mamas weeping?
Wailing for their sons?
Do you hear the babies screaming?
A community undone?
Do you hear the cries for justice?
The grievances and complaints?
Do you hear the voices singing?
The prayers of all the saints?

Hey, kids?
Poke your heads out the window.

Does it smell like something’s burning?
Like charred toast mixed with rain?
Can you smell a trace of gunpowder?
Of tear gas and octane?
Do you smell the sweat of policemen?
Drenched from their riot gear?
Do you smell the community potluck?
And neighbors sharing a beer?

Hey, kids?
Put your hands out the window.
Do you feel the people trembling?
Afraid to walk the streets?
Do you feel the sidewalks rumbling?
Underneath their feet?
Do you feel the hope that’s rising?
The change that’s comin’ on?
Do you feel it on the horizon?
Can you sense the morning dawn?

Hey, kids?
Look out the window.

Stop.
And soak it in.
Put these sights to memory–
Place them deep under your skin.
We pray you won’t forget this week—
The week your hometown burned.
More than that, we pray,
Dear sons, you’ll remember where we turned.
Hey, kids?
Look out the window.
Look up, up, up.
Not down.
Our hope is found in Jesus Christ,
Not in this little town.
The world, it may be crumbling,
But Christ is on the throne!
We turn to him and find our hope–
In him and him alone.

Hey, kids?
Watch your fingers.
We love you.
Jesus loves you most.