Do not show me videos of
My brother’s execution as though
His death is some staged movie scene where
Cut was called and he got up, brushed off and
Headed home to reheat Monday’s Barbque

His life is sacred to me
I have washed him in his infancy
Fought for him throughout his childhood
Prayed over him in my prayer closet
Fussed at him in open combat
I shielded his body from switches, and
Belts and open hand insults never once
Did I blink when it meant saving him over
Sacrificing me, he is me, I am him

His body is sacred to me
It is my responsibility to prepare him
On his final journey home, my tears
I gather to wash his wounds, my clothes
I rip to swaddle his now lifeless body
Leave me in my grief as I care for this body
I loved and nurtured and protected
Do not steal his diginity with his life
His is not martyr, his body another prop for
Your political defense, this is my brother
You
May
Use
Him
No
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