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The Good Son

The Good Son

A Poem by Eddie Phillips
"

Just being good isn't quite enough!

"


They say all lives matter, but that didn't help Susan as she cried
She believed all lives mattered until the day that Samuel died.
Samuel was her son, and she raised him in a lovely suburban house.
Samuel was not a thug and never understood what gangs were about.
He was a straight-A student and had the scholarship to attend a good school
Samuel was a good kid, and she raised him not to be a fool.
Recently, he turned 17 and started to go hang out with his friends.
Susan didn't see this as a problem. Her boy was quietly becoming a man.
He started going to parties, but he was home every night on time.
Susan and her husband never thought that Samuel was running out of time.
Tonight the doorbell rang, and an officer met the parents at the door.
Susan immediately knew something was wrong and her heart hit the floor.
The officer said that Samuel was shot dead about five miles up the road.
Susan went emotionally numb as the rest of the story was told.
Samuel was stopped for an expired tag that his dad didn't replace.
He got out of his car too fast, and the officer shot him in the face.
Susan screamed in terror and fell helplessly to the floor.
The thought of her baby shot dead was more than she could endure.
How did this happen? Samuel was smart, innocent, and kind.
Samuel lost his life to officers fear, and Susan lost her mind.

The officer's body-cam footage soon hit the internet and the news.
The brutality of the footage only emphasized a truth many already knew.
The officer asked Samuel why he was there and driving an expensive car.
Samuel stated it was his father's and that they didn't live too far.
The officer then asked why the tags on the vehicle were a week old.
Samuel said he didn't know, but his father would undoubtedly be told.
The officer laughed and insinuated that Samuel stole the expensive car.
He said Samuel also met the description of a man that had robbed a local bar.
Samuel got frustrated and screamed he was only seventeen.
The officer told him to get out as another cop pulled up on the scene.
Samuel was frustrated and angry as he quickly stepped outside the car.
He was blinded by the flashlight of the other officer approaching from afar.
As the officer shouted orders, Samuel looked afraid and alone.
He said he could call his father and reached into his pocket for his cell phone.
The officer screamed GUN! Shots were fired, and Samuel was hit in the head.
The officer rolled Samuel over to cuff him despite knowing he was dead.

How many Samuels will we lose to this horrific fate?
How many more lives must be lost before it is too much to take?

Children like Tamir Rice are routinely cut down like useless grass.
The law proffers benefit of the doubt and gives badged killers a pass.
Systemic police malfeasance continues to destroy our families and communities.
However, Americans consistently ignore the genocide and forgive the atrocities.
Samuel's mother Susan lived with the lie that her "good" son would be safe.
It only took a few fearful cops to turn her beliefs to waste.
A life of possibility was stolen with the blast of a policeman's gun.
Every new death creates the responsibility to make it the last one.

It was never mentioned in the story that Samuel was black
Too often people mitigate race as the reason behind these attacks.
However, as you read this poem, I am sure you painted on his color.
Cognitive dissonance was suspended to make you see the plight of your brothers.
We all know that black men are disproportionately arrested, killed, and defiled.
Those of you who attached a color now understand how we are consistently profiled.
Share this simple poem with those who deny the apparent truth.
Hopefully, it will promote empathy that will save an innocent black youth.


© 2017 Eddie Phillips



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Featured Review

Nice writing Eddie! This is a very serious issue that needs to be addressed. I'm sure that being a police officer is a very hard job, but if you can't handle it, you shouldn't be one. You can't just shoot innocent people. I believe that they should not shoot unless there life is in danger. You can't shoot because you thought he was reaching for a weapon. They need to be 100 % sure and it is terrible that it is mostly young blacks! Something has to change! Thank you for writing that!

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Eddie Phillips

3 Months Ago

Thank you for being the first person to review this poem. I find it to be a very important subject... read more
Donna

3 Months Ago

You are very welcome! Yes, all life is precious!



Reviews

I love how you make people think as they figure out that what they already assumed to be true, his race, and then let them think hey, “What if it was someone of my race how would I feel about it?” Gives the reader perspective! Nice work!

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Eddie Phillips

3 Months Ago

Thank you. I tried really hard to get this poem right. I am happy you got it and understand how mu.. read more
Nice writing Eddie! This is a very serious issue that needs to be addressed. I'm sure that being a police officer is a very hard job, but if you can't handle it, you shouldn't be one. You can't just shoot innocent people. I believe that they should not shoot unless there life is in danger. You can't shoot because you thought he was reaching for a weapon. They need to be 100 % sure and it is terrible that it is mostly young blacks! Something has to change! Thank you for writing that!

Posted 3 Months Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Eddie Phillips

3 Months Ago

Thank you for being the first person to review this poem. I find it to be a very important subject... read more
Donna

3 Months Ago

You are very welcome! Yes, all life is precious!

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2 Reviews
Added on November 17, 2017
Last Updated on November 17, 2017
Tags: The Good Son

Author

Eddie Phillips
Eddie Phillips

Denver, CO



About
Writer, Scholar, Martial Artist, Poet, etc. I write everything. Whatever is on my heart comes through my pen. I do not limit myself to only write what I think. I write what I feel. I write a lot .. more..

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