Painfully Powerful....

The Scales Of Justice

For me, there was no gavel,
the scales were never weighed.
My crime was that of a victim,
my life, the price I paid.

And when my life was taken,
why weren’t my rights read?
And the statement, “Overruled!”
when they pronounced me dead?

I will never hear my rights,
nor take the witness stand.
No lawyer will defend me,
Hopefully justice will be at hand.

I did not know such evil
could possibly exist.
Especially when there were four of them,
could not even one resist?

The courtroom will be crowded,
as the defendants plead their cases.
Maybe the glimmer of some tears,
such cold eyes on all their faces.

Oh, that I could take the stand,
so people could witness my last breath.
Could they live through the terror,
that I went through in death?

If they could hear my pleading cries,
see the evil in those two faces,
at least we’d know, the scales of justice,
would be balanced in all four cases.

If I could tell the jury,
exactly how it was,
how they left me on that cold, cold road,
struck down without a pause...

There was no pillow for my head,
but now I just don’t need it.
Because I’m safe in Grandma’s arms,
where pain and death won’t fit.

I knew my family loved me,
so very, very much.
Every single time I left their side, I said,
“Bye Mom/Dad, love you, kisses, hugs!”

Will the jury carefully weigh it all,
as they listen to their pleas?
There will be no emotions showing,
just the hope of going free.

The final verdicts will be given,
as defendants stand in tears.
If I had only done as well,
given more than my 20 years.

Dedicated to the loving
memory of
T.J.
(Trevor Jarrod Brandt Wiebe)
Born: March 21, 1984
Murdered: January 5, 2003

written by his father,
Floyd Trevor Wiebe