An ageless beauty
surrounded by the color of the earth,
the same rich sands,
that were watered by our blood....
fertilized by our tears,
brought forth by their fear of us!
Strong hands raised in pride,
are viewed as fists of anger.
When we gather, we are called a mob.
Such hate filled words,
coming from venom kissed lips!
Oh, but freedom is coming tomorrow!
Hidden under years of neglect, and disrespect...
but we can't forget!
Force fed forgiveness,
castrated by myths constituted to blind us.
Led to believe that we live among the just...
The fight is over they say,
but they educate our children
with televised decay, who will pay?
Though milleniums past,
their hatred still lasts...who will say?
Who cries for our lost languages?
Fortunes wasted on their trips to the moon,
as they sight new galaxies we yet live
with their fallacy of unity!
But who cries for me?
Dry up the rivers...
lay bare the oceans...
part the seas, dig slightly beneath the surface
and find traces of me!
Though many were hung...
no symphonies were written and no songs sung.
Even Hogan had his heroes.
Stripped of memories, they called me negroe...
but I, stunted, have not grown!
Great cages of birds, unflown,
are strewn across the nation....
but who cries for the lack of delegation
of leadership, or for the breakdown
in our relationships?
What a joke!
There was no relating
on those ships, only screaming...
pain and the moans from the whips....
babies thrown overboard, to lighten the load...!
Move on they say....
let go of the past....
but you cannot outrun that which lasts!