of washing the blood from the hem of my skirt
not knowing whether it's yours or mine
hearing the blood curdling screams of my ancestors as they overlap with the gritos of souls aching for justice & peace.
may the ancestors welcome you, adolph grimes.
may justice be visited swiftly upon those who snatched you away from this realm. iba ara t'orun.
(and, for good measure, fuck the police.)