Son. Father. Uncle. Friend.
Human being. Child of God.
What blindness could keep anyone
from seeing the sacred life in this man?
Bystanders saw it. And cried out
that his precious life be spared.
Only a disease of dehumanization
could cause this blindness.
When a person made in the image of God
becomes an object, a racial profile.

“I can’t breathe,” he pleaded.
“We can’t breathe,” becomes the cry
of protesters marching nationwide
and around the globe.
And truly, none of us can breathe freely
until the most vulnerable among us
can breathe without fear
of injustice, inequity, and murder.

Divine Creator, breathe on us
your breath of truth and transformation.
Turn our hearts to the knowledge
that every person is your beloved child.
Heal our sight, lift the scales
of racism from our eyes,
so we may see
that no matter the size, shape or shade,
we are always among sisters and brothers.

Loving God, lift our voices
that we may sing of your amazing grace,
that we may live receiving and sharing grace.
Let the name of George Floyd
ring from the mountain tops.
Let the names of all the murdered innocents
ring from the mountain tops.
Let justice roll down like waters.
And let those waters
be the rising tide of our actions—
our love, our compassion,
our commitment to be the change.

Tina Datsko de Sánchez serves as Poet in Residence at the First Congregational Church of Long Beach. She is the author of the bilingual poetry book The Delirium of Simón Bolívar. Her four-book series of interfaith spiritual poetry inspired by Rumi and Hafiz is forthcoming from The Pilgrim Press.