stabbed to death on July 11, 2004 in South Boston

The sky is getting darker.
We’re losing our stars one at a time
to streets that don’t hear prayers
and calls to stop the violence.

Our sons are dying in the city scenes they call home
as their mothers send breakfast-time chants in their direction,
keeping them safe until streetlights come clean
to serve as makeshift guardian angels.
A generation disappearing before its light has a chance
to shine through,
etch its shadow in our minds,
decorate our night sky with spirits
we can remember without having to try.

A generation disappearing, begging for blessings
from anyone who might have them to give.

It’s harder to notice stars from the city
because lights from the ground
make them harder to see.
Another one of our stars has fallen to the ground,
and all we can do is keep our heads up,
eyes toward the heavens,
and wish there was an answer that
would keep our night sky from falling,
falling,
trying to lull us back to sleep.

But it’s hard to find sleep tonight,
because looking into the sky,
we know another one of our stars was taken
before his time.

copyright Giles Li, 2004