“Don’t Shoot Me”
by T’arah Niles
(Written in Honour of Police Week 2016)
Don’t shoot me
Because I choose to shoot for the stars.
Don’t shoot me
Because I choose not to live on mars,
But among mortal and their laws.
Don’t shoot me
Because I refuse to conform to your views of whose news is right;
Because the only news that’s right,
Is the news of our God who gave the blind man his sight.
So don’t shoot me
Because criminals aren’t only the ones holding the gun,
They’re also the ones who see, but run and hide,
After the crime is done.
So are you one?
But don’t shoot me
Because I’m just trying to get you to put down the gun.
In this little nation where more mothers than babies are crying,
Where more young men than elders are dying,
Where more bullets than airplanes are flying,
Don’t shoot me
Because I consciously choose to consider the consequences of my actions;
In a nation that’s more divided than fractions
East can’t go west, west can’t go east
But don’t shoot me because I’m from the south side!
And I ain’t trying to hide,
It’s just that I’m working on my pride.
Isn’t that what everyone else says they’re working on?
Pride in themselves and not in their nation;
Pride in their jobs and recreation;
Pride in their money and not education;
But don’t shoot me
Because your priorities aren’t straight.
I’m just trying to shed some light on the fact
That if we don’t get it right
It’ll soon be too late;
So don’t shoot me
Because I choose to shoot for the stars.
Don’t shoot me because I choose to live civilly among mortals
And abide by their laws.
Don’t shoot me
Because I wish to see love among our communities,
Parents, daughters and sons
Instead of hatred, violence and guns;
Don’t shoot me
Because we can’t build a nation on violence and expect it to stand;
We can’t build a nation on crime, and expect to sell our brand
Because Tranquility Wrapped in Blue
Will soon be in the rear view
So don’t shoot me.
Let me tell you something about guns,
And I’m no expert on ballistics,
So I’m just speaking from statistics,
Trying to understand the logistics of what Anguilla has become.
You see, guns aren’t only machines we hide under our beds,
They’re also the words that come off our tongues.
And so sticks and stones may break my bones
But your words will leave me free, or dead.
So don’t shoot me
Because I refuse to conceal how I feel about violence,
Because it is a big deal.
Don’t shoot me
Because I refuse to keep silent about crime, while you stay hushed,
And then you end up crying beside a coffin.
Don’t shoot me
Because until all this violence ceases,
The lack of peace will break us to pie-ces.
So don’t shoot me
Because I refuse to conform to your views about whose news is right;
Because the only news that’s right,
Is the news of our God
Who kept us,
Till this night.
“May God restore Anguilla.”
