By BRAD TROM
A winter sun hangs low and cold,
Above the stories left untold.
On Wednesday next, the news broke wide,
With nowhere left for grief to hide.
A daughter, mother, neighbor, friend—
A life that met a reckless end.
They governed for the camera’s lens,
To satisfy their own amens.
But sensational sparks leave ashes behind,
And fear is a harvest of a bitter kind.
In Minneapolis, the sirens cried,
For Renee Nicole, who shouldn’t have died.
A Promise in the Frost
The Governor speaks with a heavy heart,
“They will not tear our homes apart.”
Though headlines chase the conflict’s fire,
The North Star State aims something higher.
Not in the streets with stone and flame,
But in the courts, they’ll speak her name.
The Day of Unity
On Friday, when the air was still,
A different force began to fill
The parks, the pews, the quiet halls—
A grace that answers duty’s calls.
A moment held in silence deep,
For promises we mean to keep.
A Hand Extended: Through acts of care.
A Shared Breath: In the chilling air.
A Vow Made: That decency remains,
A Life Honored: Despite the stains.
The Guard and the Peace
The boots are staged, the Guard is near,
To hold the line against the fear.
But the greatest strength isn’t found in might,
It’s in the thousands standing for what’s right.
“Powerful peace,” the leader said,
A tribute to the life that fled.
Minnesota stands, though hearts may break,
For every breath and choice we make.
In the face of shadows, cold and vast,
We hold to the love we know will last.
