My own eulogy: Wentworth teen's haunting poem demands end to community violence

Fifteen-year-old Kale Smith delivered his own eulogy at the Wentworth Rise Against Violence campaign launch, not because he's dead, but because children in his community 'don't know if we will live long enough for someone else to read it for us.' His powerful poem demands action from community leaders to end the violence that threatens young lives in Wentworth

‘For when my voice can no longer speak’

My name is Kale Smith… and today I'm going to read my own eulogy, not because I am dead, but because in Wentworth, children like me don’t know if we will live long enough for someone else to read it for us.”

And as all of our speakers speak today may they may be reminded that the commitments and promises that they make must be something that they follow through on because every young person is counting on you.

Today, I speak for myself…

And for every child whose voice was silenced before they even had a chance to grow.

For the boys whose blood is still fresh on our pavements.

For the girls whose screams were swallowed by the night.

For the families still waiting for justice that never came.

For every dream that died in this community before it even began.

If you ever hear people say Kale died

Let them know I was more than another body lost to gunshots, drugs, or someone’s anger.

Tell them I loved soccer.

I lived in Liverpool.

I found peace in music.

J Cole felt like an older brother I never met.

I cared too much.

I watched out for people.

I wanted to become a lawyer so I could stand up for kids who grew up in fear — kids just like me.

And since I was two years old, I have tried to make this community better… even when this community couldn’t protect me.

But if I die…

There is something I need this community to understand more than anything else:

I have two younger brothers — Cole and Kai.

Two boys who look up to me.

Two boys who follow my footsteps.

Two boys who still believe this world has space for their dreams.

If I die, don’t only mourn me…

mourn my brothers who will grow up without their big brother’s voice to guide them.

Mourn the nights Cole will lie awake wishing he could talk to me again.

Mourn the mornings Kai will look at my empty chair at breakfast.

Mourn the moments they will need me… and I won’t be there.

If I die, who teaches them how to be men?

Who shields them from the same darkness that swallowed so many boys before me?

Who reminds them they are worth more than this community’s violence?

If you fail to protect me, you fail to protect them too.

And if you fail them, how many more brothers will we bury?

If I die in Wentworth, don’t dress it up with pretty words.

Don’t say God needed another angel.

Don’t say It was his time.

Don’t say He was in the wrong place.

I live in the wrong place.

A child shouldn’t have to dodge bullets to buy bread.

A 15-year-old shouldn’t have to write his own eulogy to stay alive.

If I die, ask yourselves:

How many children must be buried before adults wake up?

How many funerals must we attend before someone says ‘Enough’?

How many nights must gunshots replace our lullabies?

How many dreams must we bury before we protect the ones who are still breathing?

And if you ever stand over my coffin one day, looking down at my face, cold and still, I want these words to haunt you:

You could have saved me.

You could have saved all of us.

But you didn’t fight hard enough.

And think about Cole and Kai…

standing beside my coffin, holding my photo…

trying to understand why their brother isn’t coming home.

But today… Today I am still alive.

I am a boy who wants to grow older.

I want to watch Liverpool lift trophies.

I want to hear J Cole live.

I want to graduate.

I want to fall in love.

I want to have children.

I want to stand in a courtroom one day and fight for justice in this very community.

I want to live.

But wanting to live isn’t enough in Wentworth.

Not when guns are louder than our leaders.

Not when drugs raise more children than parents.

Not when silence is the biggest killer of all.

So I read my eulogy now… while I still have breath…

because there are so many who didn’t get the chance.

And to every adult standing in this room, I say this with all the pain and truth inside me:

If you love us, prove it.

Protect us.

Fight for us.

Stand for us.

Before we become names on T-shirts…

Before you light candles for us…

Before you carry our coffins.

Let this be the last time a child has to speak his own death  just to make you listen

Let this be the moment Wentworth chooses life… for all of us

For me, for my brothers and every child in this community.

THE POST