Tuesday, September 13, 2011 at 7:38AM I AM TROY DAVIS
“Troy Davis was convicted of murdering a Georgia police officer in 1991. Nearly two decades later, Davis remains on death row — even though the case against him has fallen apart.
The case against him consisted entirely of witness testimony which contained inconsistencies even at the time of the trial. Since then, all but two of the state's non-police witnesses from the trial have recanted or contradicted their testimony.
Many of these witnesses have stated in sworn affidavits that they were pressured or coerced by police into testifying or signing statements against Troy Davis.
One of the two witnesses who has not recanted his testimony is Sylvester "Red" Coles — the principle alternative suspect, according to the defense, against whom there is new evidence implicating him as the gunman. Nine individuals have signed affidavits implicating Sylvester Coles.
Breaking News: An execution date for Troy Davis is scheduled for September 21! In the days before Davis' execution, the Georgia Board of Pardons & Paroles will hold a final clemency hearing – a final chance to prevent Troy Davis from being executed.
Take Action: Sign petition to oppose the death penalty for Troy Davis
Sign up: Global Day of Solidarity for Troy on Friday, September 16
Watch Videos: Learn and educate others about Troy Davis case
Spread the word: Sign and circulate sign-on letter to legal professional
Spread the word: Sign and circulate sign-on letter to religious leaders
Learn More: Notable Leaders, Artists and Other Troy Davis Supporters
Listen: Amnesty's telephone conversation with Troy (mp3)”
(from Amnesty International)
The Executioner’s Song
By Cassandra Tribe
My hour of worship is midnight.
The moon bright altar flame.
I am the hope
of forgotten men.
God in a world without blame.
The cross blankets body thought.
Sometimes it cushions with deed.
Food is proof of kindness,
kindness bargained for peace.
Prayers are said.
Permission loomed.
So it begins.
Death enters the room.
The life that waited,
retreats from the world.
The soul is forgotten.
The body pieced by worms.
Death will go back to living,
until he is needed again.
Memory will be argued
by no one called a friend.
Compared to a soldier feted
for killing in the name of caprice,
death in the peace is kept hidden,
blind justice fails its increase.
Even on
battlefield, there is no face.
Even in
war, rules contain blame.
At home,
where soldiers are bootless,
death is recruited and paid.
Service requested and rendered,
secrecy hides all blame.
Judas fed coins to soil,
the only seeds that ever grew,
trees to watch the world,
and man as he stumbles through.
Bright moon finds swaying face
to hide and reveal again,
flashes of effort misplaced,
spun chance revealed, forsaken.
In solemn place,
the body strapped down and blinded,
still communicates.
pressed wafer provides the food,
food to assuage the weak,
leaving the body hungry,
crying one last speech.
Bright moon finds swaying face
to hide and reveal again,
flashes of effort misplaced,
spun chance revealed, forsaken.
I have gone
to husbands who were fathers,
I have gone
to wives who were mothers,
wanting them to serve, solid food of better.
The plate they gave me was empty,
'though 'twas turned just so,
hoping I wouldn't notice
broke finish mold and go.
Brother and sister after,
forgot me and argued on how,
when wine had been flowing so freely,
their cups were empty now.
Not agreeing with any reason,
they decided each other to slur,
the wine soaked into the ground,
no pool of bliss any more.
No one in this world,
that loves its secrets revealed,
wants to know
the why of I am.
Even the Christ on the Hill,
was asked the source of his plan.
I am the secret son of faith
who chose a different stand,
following words inspired,
but written by human hand.
My temples you'll find in castles,
filled with forgotten men,
Each of them sacrifice,
food to man's growing sin,
I am the one who goes on.
The one who should be condemned,
but I make the sleep of the world,
quiet
dismissive of kin.
One day the world
will go blind
and in blindness finally see.
The flame on my altar will fade,
and midnight will never be.
Till then,
I am always invited,
false promise of life believed,
for I am the Christ of the Chamber,
these castles only I enter,
yet rule I both land and man.
My hour of worship is midnight.
The moon bright altar flame.
I am the hope
of forgotten men.
God in a world without blame.
(c.2011. Cassandra Tribe. All Rights Reserved)
2011, Amnesty International, Execution Set, Petition, September 21, Take Action, Troy Davis, death row inmate | in current events, poetry 
Reader Comments