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Wednesday, April 11, 2012

J is for Justice

He is every mother's son; every grandmother's grandson. 

Trayvon Martin is my son; he is your son. 

Trayvon Martin is my grandson. He is your grandson.

Let justice be served.

Writing Tip:

Never explain your writing. Just put it out there. If a reader has a problem with what you wrote, it is none of your business. 

Writing Quote:

"It smells to heaven."--Shakespeare

Until this time next time.

See you in print,

Linda Della Donna

Della Donna is a freelance writer. She supports individuals going through the grief process. Learn more about Della Donna and her writing services at; opt-in for a copy of her free ebook, Treasury of Quotations, and monthly newsletter.

4 comments: said...

It is amazing to me that we still have not been provided the complete story. I, too, was troubled by this event. I waited. I waited. I listened to the 911 call. And, I decided that I must add my voice to the outcry.
I have been toying with writing something for a while. I have reposted another's thoughts- which is not my normal modality. Shy, I'm not. The facts are still coming to light. Given that....

I'm White. I can almost fit in (my kipa tends to give away the fact that I'm different). So, generally, I would not be considered "the other" should I be walking on the streets late at night. And, my kids would not be considered so, either. But... that's not necessarily true.

Trayvon was walking down the street. He may have been totally innocent. (I believe he was; the telephone calls were not staged- he had no idea he would be murdered.) But, he was certainly considered "the other". And, followed- in spite of this murderer being told by 911 to stop his pursuit.

I'll grant that Trayvon may have taken a swing at this stealthy perpetrator. It was night time, he was being followed, he protected himself against this violator. Most of us have no idea what that's like.

I can recall being young (I think I was 13) and walking home from a distant high school (not my own) on a Friday night. I had attended a "district" high school dance with a friend, Marshall Schlossberg. It wasn't that far- it was 5 miles. But, it was midnight.

As we were walking, a bunch of kids in a vehicle were taunting us. OK, they were menacing us. We took off running- through people's side yards, because a car could not so follow. We ran about a mile. Then, we walked (catching our breaths).

And, we saw them again. And, took off through backyards this time. Several of them. And, then continued to walk. When we saw another black car- creeping behind us. That REALLY scared us. We took off again.

And found ourselves being put in lights and followed on foot. We were terrified. And, kept running- into another bunch of folks with flashlights, who wrestled us to the ground. Punches flew, feet kicked. And, then a gunshot. These jerks were cops. They were going to arrest us for running from them.

I know how Trayvon felt. He had no weapon. He was doing nothing wrong.

This is America. We have to stop this- now! This inane law "Stand Your Ground" may apply (not in my book, folks) in your house, in your place of business-- but the second you cross the threshold- it's no longer applicable. You stood your ground- now you're a perpetrator, too. And, perpetrators must be prosecuted.

Elizabeth said...

We have to trust that justice will be served and that truth will be revealed.

Dianna Fielding said...

Thank you for this post. More must speak up in this way. May justice be found.

Good luck with the challenge.

Dianna Fielding

Liz said...

I enjoyed your poem - i wish whatever prompted it had not happened, I sense a sad story. It sounds like you do a very worthwhile job.

I'm leaving you my A-Z link as blogger
always identifies me as my shared blog with other poets - my A-Z is this one: