Tragic sensationA Poem by Joanna JohnsonShe had something special planned. A gift of love for the one she loved. A surprise gift waiting for him under the warm morning hours of the South African skies. That's what everyone said or tweeted - news came quickly. Called an angel by most with a heart of gold, she planned the perfect Valentine's surprise. But that day was her last. To tragically die on a day the world stood against rape and violence. They say she was to encourage girls at a school to succeed you know. He had gained notable status. Symbol of triumph over tribulation, hero to those without legs encouraged to finish the race strong. His picture graced Nike endorsements, city billboards, and at one time the screen saver of my iMac. They say he killed her on purpose. Now he sits in a Pretoria jail cell. Ditched by the companies who put him on a pedestal. (How quickly an athlete goes from inspiration to repulsion) News came quickly, left swiftly, at least here on American soil. Pictures of her flashed before men, who slobber over her hot body without respect for her lost soul. Crude jokes decorate the blogs. Athletes remain in shock. Speculation circles the news desks While we all whisper, could it be? Could this be? Was he not the symbol of hope for a country that has endured racial tragedy? Inspiration rolled into one - now shattered like crystal glass? Fearfully, we hope, we pray, or at least I pray - This is not a rendition of 1994 When a Bronco sped down the freeway and murder became synonymous with O.J. Ambivalence irks me. Was it accidental or murder? A tragic mistake, or premeditated? Will she be remembered for her inner beauty, or gawked at by lustful men, even after they bury her? Will the truth come out? Will wrongs be made right Will this unite or divide? Or will we move on to other news with nonchalance? No one speaks of it here. Maybe because it isn't on American soil. But some of us think of it. Someone we admired fallen. Someone we should have known, tragically lost. Valentine's Day ruined for some Day of fighting violence against women ironically remembered. I'll never remember the Olympics the same. Just don't let this become another O.J. Please. Please Please Don't let this become another O.J.
© 2013 Joanna JohnsonAuthor's Note
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Added on February 17, 2013Last Updated on February 17, 2013 AuthorJoanna JohnsonSan Jose, CAAboutI am a story teller at heart, ever since I was a girl with braids and bad skin. I pursued journalism in college, wrote for newspapers, and ventured into various jobs, but my passion to write stories h.. more..Writing
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