Before the storm comes
After the dirt’s done
There’s a moment of relief.
Body’s still buried
No need to worry
But uncovered bones bring grief.
When crimes are revealed
Fates are sometimes sealed
Before defendants cop pleas.
Sentence mandated
Remorse belated
Lynch mobs look for trees
Vengeance or justice?
Hiss’tree will judge us
Whether we were right or wrong
In our laws and deeds.
How’d we meet the needs
Of our justice-seeking throng?
Keith M. Kelley | Poet 