By Anthony Talbert
First place, poetry, Heard/Alexandria Detention Center writing contest, August 2021
Some cry when things seem to whirl wind out of control
Or cry when they want to be held,
But there’s no one to hold.
Growing up I was told that the eyes are the windows to
So I cry to cleanse my soul of all the torment it
I cry for that man doing time because another man told.
I cry for that bronze complexioned sister who doesn’t
Realize that her body is gold.
I cry for the victims of nine-eleven.
And I cry for those Bishops, Priests, and Reverends who just can’t
To keep their hands off of those little boys who are
Nine, ten and eleven.
I cry for the homeless who endure winter nights.
And I cry for those who refuse to walk with their heads
Held high because they are afraid of heights.
I cry for those who are looked over because of a felony
Or those of you battling addiction,
Or that abused child who is scarred with afflictions.
I cry for that bastard handing out a million years all because
He’s in a position
But one day he too will be judged.
I even cry for that gay population who is judged.
And I cry for Jesus because,
Not only did he cry, but
He died because he was judged.
I cry for you because I was once you.
A man who is too cool to cry for me too.