the silence of the grave

A Sonnet to the Memory of George Floyd
Strangled to Death 2020 May 25

i know not whether i’m naked before men,
while lying in this cold and silent den;
should they speak ill of me, i have no clue,
nor can i measure what is false or true,

when covertly they whisper over me    
to see me shackled, who stood once so free.
this is a lonely place—silent as death;
hate’s knee upon my neck has stilled my breath!

i would suppose that life, so glibly snatched,
appeases him from God who’s unattached.
i cannot breach the silence of the grave,
but may the living yet be bold and brave:

o let my fallen soul lift others up
and liberate them from this bitter cup.

© Copyright 2020 June 07
by Clyve A. Bowen♫