thirty eighth and chicago
and one year and one trial
and one verdict delivered just
and in that, justice
but the names the names the names
must we keep saying more names every day
of those taken from us by neglect by indifference by hate
by racist design, by it’s cunning violence
by what’s become of a broken justice
which comes and goes
but never stays with us
thirty eighth and chicago
after one year, after one trial
and it’s still closed to traffic, and it’s still a crossroads
of work left undone by citizens, cities, pd’s, and governments
of reforms left in the air, left in committee, left out of the books
of how far we’ve come and how far left to go
until the traffic can flow, until the barricades can go
the news cameras turned off
the crowds in the streets all at home
at thirty eighth and chicago
the day when foot traffic returns
to just neighbors stopping in the corner store
will that be the day justice has come home
the day when car traffic returns to just folks getting gas and some smokes
will that be the day justice has come home
the day when all of us, of any race, at any place in america
can walk across our own crossroads
our own intersections, our own streets, our own moment
that moment in our life where we come to know the police
will that be the day justice has come home
to thirty eighth and chicago
heat flow 