I CAN’T BREATHE
 
“I can’t breathe.”
“I can’t breathe.”
Who moaned that?
George, a black man
head locked by a boot
under a police car
In Minneapolis.
 
“I can’t breathe.”
“I can’t breathe.”
Who couldn’t even breathe that?
Jesus, a Jew man,
hands locked by nails
suffocating on a Roman cross
outside Jerusalem
because that’s what crucifixion does.
 
George didn’t pretend to be Jesus.
Jesus did intend to die for George
and all the Georges of the world.
I wonder, was he there,
trying to breathe for George
or breathe out with him?
 
Oh, dear Jesus,
Please, please, breathe your breath
on us again,
for all who are suffocating
 in sin,
 in sorrow,
 in sickness,
 in servitude,
 in slavery.
 
Breath out your pentecostal fire
on all flesh
black and brown
yellow, red, and white
burn out our hatreds,
our silences, our indifferences,
before we all burn,
before we all die.
 
Leighton Ford, Pentecost 2020