Not guilty. Those words, those two little words left my text message inbox full. From east to west coast. So many words, so many characters. Trayvon Martin was dead, had been dead for more than two years, but his killer, he was born again. His freedom was definite and people were crying, people were hurt and angry. If someone were to ask me how I was feeling, I wouldn’t have a response. I wasn’t surprised at the verdict. Wasn’t surprised that the life of that young man had not seen the courtesy of justice. This was the way of the world, the way of people. The humanity of this present is very limited. People have forgotten the hope of living, have forgotten the kindness of being able to decipher emotion, action and the power of consequence.
I dare not say if I think the verdict was right or wrong, if George Zimmerman was right to stalk, and ultimately take the life of a child. No matter his height, his weight, his skin color. Trayvon Martin was a child, a minor. His trip to the store for drink, a little candy had resulted in the last breath he would take, the last words he would speak, the last moments of his world. If we are spiritual beings we hope that his soul lives on, that he lives in grandeur, peace, and with the ultimate love of God.
I hope for his parents to forgive the actions of a man that paid no penalties of acts of malicious emotions, ideals and beliefs. I pray for the release of pain that will plaque them for years to come, that they see this as a moment lived for the understanding that while the years have multiplied since the movement for civil rights that we still must be aware of the hate that continues to move within the hearts and minds of people. That while we are aware that we are all human, we are people, that the differences and the ignorance of who we are can still be predatory, and may live docile within us. However with the right recipe can be baked and cooked to the perfect degree for murder, for pain, and for acts of hatred and violence.