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Bobby

written by: TM Arko

 

They called you “runt”
Your father ignored you
While your mother
Adored you
You fought to be strong
Among your brothers
At the same time
Learning always to love others
You studied and you played
Loving the history of presidents
And the words of the poets
Aeschylus
To Frost
Lincoln
To FDR
You trained your mind
And fed your soul
You made your body strong
You stood always for family
Advisor to your brother John
You were tough and courageous
You stood your ground against crime
You helped to save the world from
Nuclear conflict
You stood up for the ideal of civil rights
When a bullet took your brother’s life
You did not hide in the cave of grief
You struck out against the mindless violence
That robs the soul of belief
You saw the root of injustice
That could choke our children’s future
You stood for the affirmation of freedom
The enlargement of liberty
You avoided politicians who machinate
Behind the closed doors
Where they legislate hate
You left the hallowed halls
And the upstate estate walls
In Appalachia you walked with the poor
Mississippi Delta
Knelt over a starving child
On the cold dirt floor
You understood the underdog
You had compassion
On humanity
Those who struggled in the shadow of wealth
April night in Memphis
Martin Luther King shot down and killed
You stood without fear to speak comfort
Because you knew so well the pain that
“falls drop by drop upon the heart”
You wanted a better America
For the hungry and starving
A better America
For the jobless Indians
The poor coal miners
The mistreated migrant workers
The downtrodden in the black ghettos
You believed in us
No matter who we were
We could come together
We could all stand for something better
We could all become a tiny ripple of hope
Midnight hour
Hot June evening in L.A.
The assassin’s bullet found you
A humble dishwasher
Held your bleeding head
Above the rough cold floor
In the kitchen hallway
Your dying words were your life’s desire
You only wanted to know
Is everyone okay

 

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Robert F. Kennedy was taken from us on June 6th 1968. His spirit of selflessness and compassion for those who struggle will never die.

TM Arko

TM Arko

I live in the Pacific Northwest. A small community with farms and antique shops. Lots of rivers and lakes and these are some of the themes I like. I am a technical writer by trade so poetry offers me an escape from the more mundane industrial articles I work on day to day. I love music and am a classic rock fanatic. Love good books and stories too.
TM Arko

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