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The lightening flashed and they heard the thunder;
Oh how the ancestors must have rejoiced.
That day, God cried; cotton picking went asunder;
Down it came…heavenly tears; what a blessed choice.
It’s a long way from the cotton field to the White House.
We’ve been to the moon and made it back;
Yet the researchers still use the little white mouse;
Still little concern for those who are black.
Political power has proven not to be Black Power;
Gave us the vote as a historical footnote.
Unless the new rain brings us an Economic Shower
We’re destined to the bowels of a space boat.
No doubt, many wonderful strides were made;
And in most arenas, we did gain a rightful place.
But while segregation went away, oppression stayed;
While we crossed the finished line, we still lost the race.
Yet, all has not been in vain; we’re not where we once were;
Nor are we where some day we are going to be;
For we’re no longer the choice prize of the evil exploiter.
However, there’s still no forty acres and a mule for you and me.
