Noone Helped Him

The iron pipe swung downwards

The boy’s head got in its way

“batty bwoy!”

A knife made its mark

His flesh gave way

“chi chi man”

Timberlands lent a hand

These boots are made for walking…on your face


No one helped him

When the first insult was hurled his way


When the first bottle was broken

On his head

“Boom bye bye inna batty bwoy ‘ead!”

When he fell to his knees

As if praying

“Let him who is without sin….”

No one helped him.


No one helped him

As his brothers surrounded him

For this death ritual

Hate gleaming in their eyes

“From dem a par inna chi chi man cyar…”

In spite of his screams

“….bring di fiya meck wi bun dem!”

No one stepped in pleading foul play

There were eight of them, only one of him.


No one helped him

When he ran through the streets

Gasping for breath

They deafened their ears to his cry for help

Averted their eyes

His blood spattering the pavement

He tried to slow its flow

With his hands

But he only had two.


No one cared that he could hear

His own heart pounding

Threatening to free itself

From the prison of his chest

That he could feel his life-force ebbing

That he knew he was dying

That he had never really loved a man

Or been loved by one

The boy was still a virgin.


No Christian soldiers came marching

Even though he lay bleeding

Only 17 years old

Dying in the street

Hands reaching out for help

His eyes rolling back in his head

He died



No one helped him.

 © fabian thomas



1 Comment

  1. WOW!! Fabian, brother, this is awesome. The intermingling of cultural “acceptances” with cruel injustice rings loud and true. Thank you for adding your words to the voice of those who are trying to be silenced. May your words RING LOUD!!! Love ya, ma brudda.

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