Treacherously trodden
has been this rough rugged road;
the way over
which we’ve come
has not been kind.
Our hopes and spirits
have been tested
and so has every mind;
oh but we've never buckled
under the burden of the heavy load.
Over the weary way
with blood and tears, we’ve strode;
guided by an audacious faith
and with a spirit…holy and sublime
we’ve survived tortuous trials, tribulations
and the uncertainties of the time;
till at last, the home of the brave
and the land of the free became our abode.
Now our children wear a scarlet letter
tagged with a bulls eye profile...
black lives no longer seem to matter
equal justice for all, is no longer in style.
Today grandmothers rock and hum hymns
of sorrow,
fearing another will die a heinous death
tomorrow;
and a grieving mother will stare into the bloody
street
at the lifeless body of her child and wearily pray
and weep;
for she'll emphatically be told by the lawful
authority,
that her child died dreadfully...due to his own
criminality.
Oh how long will our communities continue
to be
as cells for prisoners living on death's row…
where the executioners roam and shoot usdown
freely
or lay us dead with a practiced---unlawful
deadly blow?
Send a sign to us oh Lord---the so called chided children
of Noah's son, Cain;
Let the tides of history roll in---ending our years of suffering
and excruciating pain.