A "GANGSTER'S" PRIDE
All for his "Homies" tried and true,The pride of his colors, the gang, his crewHe lives his life helping all those in needLoving and caring shown in his deeds.He laughs with his friends as memories are madeLittle pranks, jokes, stories of his time he gave.At times he sits so deep in thoughtYou wonder what this "gangster" is all about.Adults pre-judge him for his appearance.They see baggy clothes and slicked back hairAnd think "no good" for him there is no chance.Other kids see him with hate.They throw gang signs, and call him names.A fight they try to instigate.He tries very hard to do what is rightHe thinks of his mother's words,"Don't pay attention walk away from a fight"She prays for his safety as to God for him she criesTrying to get passed the accusations against him, the lies.He tells his friends about angels and trumpets and about the last days,Things he has read in the Bible, as in his room he laysIt's so hard to be goodWhen people, adults, say you're a hood.But if we can see past the clothes and the hairWe see they are our children in need of love, compassion, and care.They are young people hurting and in despair.We can do more for them than shake our head as we stare.This young man has dreams of what he wants to someday beTo finish school, perhaps go to college, work,How proud mom would be.He loves his neighborhood where he lives,Not by his choice, but his parents, no opinion he gives.You watch my back & I'll watch yoursA promise given by each of the boys.They care for each other as they make their way homeNot thinking of danger or doom.A quiet night towards home his walk he beginsNot thinking that tonight his soul, will be required of him.The Lord called him that October day.As this young man takes God's hand, to Heaven, he's on his way.He doesn't look back to what he leaves behind.He's in the presence of Jesus and His Glory Divine.This young man gave his life, so many would find theirs.Gang kids are not evil or hoods by nature.They are our sons, our daughters in need of affection.This young man that lived a short 17 yearsWill be remembered with love by his friendsAnd his mother through her tears.As she kissed him for the last time in this lifeShe looks to the Lord for strength, comfort, and guidance.For the days ahead that are filled with strife.She knows in her heart that one day they will be together againAnd as the pain and the heartache of the daysWithout him come and are gone.She continues her walk through faith in God's plan.You may wonder how I'm so certain of what I write,You see I am the mother and Omar my son.To Omar with loveI love you mijo,MOMThis poem was contributed by Pat in loving memory of her sonOmar Jesus TrujilloJanuary 30, 1981 - October 25, 1998
All for his "Homies" tried and true,The pride of his colors, the gang, his crewHe lives his life helping all those in needLoving and caring shown in his deeds.He laughs with his friends as memories are madeLittle pranks, jokes, stories of his time he gave.At times he sits so deep in thoughtYou wonder what this "gangster" is all about.Adults pre-judge him for his appearance.They see baggy clothes and slicked back hairAnd think "no good" for him there is no chance.Other kids see him with hate.They throw gang signs, and call him names.A fight they try to instigate.He tries very hard to do what is rightHe thinks of his mother's words,"Don't pay attention walk away from a fight"She prays for his safety as to God for him she criesTrying to get passed the accusations against him, the lies.He tells his friends about angels and trumpets and about the last days,Things he has read in the Bible, as in his room he laysIt's so hard to be goodWhen people, adults, say you're a hood.But if we can see past the clothes and the hairWe see they are our children in need of love, compassion, and care.They are young people hurting and in despair.We can do more for them than shake our head as we stare.This young man has dreams of what he wants to someday beTo finish school, perhaps go to college, work,How proud mom would be.He loves his neighborhood where he lives,Not by his choice, but his parents, no opinion he gives.You watch my back & I'll watch yoursA promise given by each of the boys.They care for each other as they make their way homeNot thinking of danger or doom.A quiet night towards home his walk he beginsNot thinking that tonight his soul, will be required of him.The Lord called him that October day.As this young man takes God's hand, to Heaven, he's on his way.He doesn't look back to what he leaves behind.He's in the presence of Jesus and His Glory Divine.This young man gave his life, so many would find theirs.Gang kids are not evil or hoods by nature.They are our sons, our daughters in need of affection.This young man that lived a short 17 yearsWill be remembered with love by his friendsAnd his mother through her tears.As she kissed him for the last time in this lifeShe looks to the Lord for strength, comfort, and guidance.For the days ahead that are filled with strife.She knows in her heart that one day they will be together againAnd as the pain and the heartache of the daysWithout him come and are gone.She continues her walk through faith in God's plan.You may wonder how I'm so certain of what I write,You see I am the mother and Omar my son.To Omar with loveI love you mijo,MOMThis poem was contributed by Pat in loving memory of her sonOmar Jesus TrujilloJanuary 30, 1981 - October 25, 1998
