Sonya Massey Mural accredited to Austin Wells

Decided to share some scribbled thoughts/stream of consciousness, based on an interaction on my way home last night.

If you haven’t heard about what happened to Sonya Massey, you can read about it here (content warning, the linked article also includes bodycam footage).

I had been querying whether to attempt a response and something shared by another poet, in a writing group I am a part of, prompted me to make an attempt.

In Her Shoes

(working title)

Feet throbbing, after walking miles in my shoes. Heart full and tank topped up; letting the red double decker take the strain and carry me home.

Pleasantly musing on how I was almost passing where my day of fulljoy began; then the burning in my ears was pierced by the words that toppled from pale bursting lips.

“Who is this Sonya Massey?” 

I affixed my gaze on the view ahead of me, but my ears were glued in the voice’s direction. She better watch the next words that fall from her face.

“I’m just watching the video.”

I’m just waiting on what comes next. Not sure I knew what I would do if her response displeased me, but everything in me was on standby.

Her voice continued to carry as she repeated the above (what is it about people and their lack of inside voice?).

“I mean how can this just happen?
How can you just do that?… America of course.”

Disengage.

She would not be feeling my wrath today.

But the UK is not innocent, although they would like us to think that.

The atmosphere has shifted and so has my attention—even with her voice still ringing in my ears.

Hers has turned to the sweet tasting Moët—it seems she took without permission—and whether she should post that reel or not. The caller on the other end, enlisted to help her decide. It seems the consensus was her face didn’t look good in it, so I guess she did not.

How seamlessly her attention shifted.
Her eyes hadn’t turned away while the video was playing. She hadn’t had to cover the screen when it got to that point. She watched the cruel end to Sonya’s life on this earth.

But she didn’t walk a mile in Sonya’s shoes.

– J M Whyne, 26 July 2024

Optional additional reading:

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