The 9 mm semiautomatic pistol was aimed at his heart . The white police officer could easily get away with it . For the victim was a black man . Yes after the shootout there will be the "usual " uproar of a racist overtone . But in this case he could get away with it as the circumstances he could explain . And yes with his ingrained racism he wanted to pull the trigger .
But a second before pulling the trigger at the black man he saw it . The 6 stringed instrument freshly strummed alongside the black man . And that second hesitation was enough for him to escape with his life . For though a criminal he had better things to do than to kill a police officer or be a martyr in a police shooting .
After the criminal escaped the officer was still standing staring at the 6 stringed instrument , a crudely made acoustic guitar left behind by the black man . And the middle aged officer was thinking back to his own teenage years .
A product of a broken home which doesnt discriminate between black , brown or white . Bullied terribly in school and college he found solace in music . Specifically the music of the blacks . As a youth he knew though discriminated against in every sphere blacks were disproportionately represented in the music industry . And all his heroes and heroines were black . It was not a conscious process as music didnt have any color that he knew of . But he read somewhere that music of americas originally came from africa . He read that every day the slaves had one respite from their agonising and mundane existence . The world of dance and music which their forefathers gifted .
Aretha Franklin, Michael Jackson , Gloria Geynor , Ray Charles , Stevie Wonder , Whitney Houston the list was endless . And in his troubled youth these were his gods and goddesses who took him out of his troubles , gave him hope and made him pursue life once again . He thought again . Without them he may not have survived his teenage years . And for a moment he stared at his gun . The instrument he carried to protect the people but which lost its meaning . That was his last day at work .
He took up a job with an agency working with homeless black youth guiding them and integrating them into mainstream society .And yes in his sparetime he started to strum the guitar with them . And the black gods and goddesses of music were watching him many from the nether world .......
Heal the world ... Make it a better place ,.. for you and for me ,, and the entire human race ..( Michael Jackson ..)
But a second before pulling the trigger at the black man he saw it . The 6 stringed instrument freshly strummed alongside the black man . And that second hesitation was enough for him to escape with his life . For though a criminal he had better things to do than to kill a police officer or be a martyr in a police shooting .
After the criminal escaped the officer was still standing staring at the 6 stringed instrument , a crudely made acoustic guitar left behind by the black man . And the middle aged officer was thinking back to his own teenage years .
A product of a broken home which doesnt discriminate between black , brown or white . Bullied terribly in school and college he found solace in music . Specifically the music of the blacks . As a youth he knew though discriminated against in every sphere blacks were disproportionately represented in the music industry . And all his heroes and heroines were black . It was not a conscious process as music didnt have any color that he knew of . But he read somewhere that music of americas originally came from africa . He read that every day the slaves had one respite from their agonising and mundane existence . The world of dance and music which their forefathers gifted .
Aretha Franklin, Michael Jackson , Gloria Geynor , Ray Charles , Stevie Wonder , Whitney Houston the list was endless . And in his troubled youth these were his gods and goddesses who took him out of his troubles , gave him hope and made him pursue life once again . He thought again . Without them he may not have survived his teenage years . And for a moment he stared at his gun . The instrument he carried to protect the people but which lost its meaning . That was his last day at work .
He took up a job with an agency working with homeless black youth guiding them and integrating them into mainstream society .And yes in his sparetime he started to strum the guitar with them . And the black gods and goddesses of music were watching him many from the nether world .......
Heal the world ... Make it a better place ,.. for you and for me ,, and the entire human race ..( Michael Jackson ..)
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