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**A poem about life, after justice is served**

What happens after justice is served?
Will the dust settle?
And so we move on to the next case

Do we mourn?
Do we make laws?
Do we make donations in large sums hoping the currency would heal the dead?

What do we do after justice has been served?

Do we take till the end of a lifetime to investigate made-up probabilities?
Shifting our gaze, away from the bloody truth
Do we impose charges and punishments for the collateral damage?
But not the damage
Do we find space in the jails for civilians?
Is that why we always run out of space for justice

What do we do after justice has been served?

Does a killer walk free? From a murderous job?
A sentence for murder.
Do we erect new leaders? Will they lead to justice?
When do we stop protesting?

What do we do after justice has been served?

Do we erect monuments in memory?
Do we tell stories of glory, innocence, and a righteous life?
Do we capture portraits with no imperfections?

What do we do after justice has been served?

Do young, healthy, angelic and prideful black women get reminded of their worth?
That it’s not worth it.
Do black mothers hold the phone closer, with their hearts tighter, when their black children are out of sight?
Perhaps sleeping.
Do black parents have to have the conversation with their black kids again, for the x time-in-a-row?
About justice.

How, in this country—and this planet—
It doesn’t belong to them.
We can’t save your life, even though you save their life.

What do we do after justice has been served?

What do we do after justice has been served?

What do we do after justice has been served?

What do we do? Now that justice has been served

Do we not know?
Is that why justice has yet to be served?

@sircharlesthepoet