Once my my skin matched up with the sky...
Ebony, fighting streaks of red sunlight at the speed of dawn found me
at Angkor Wat, interrogating statues who smile a Mona Lisa smile.
They knew me well, Whispering, this god made of clay told me I
witnessed the birth of Akhenaten and wept at the death of the sun.
Vowing to wait for the son of man like a pregnant bride holding sins in
her belly. Making slaves of those who skin bore evidence of the first
eclipse. Children of the first sunrise, children of the first night..
Lost, I found myself on a Trans Atlantic conveyor belt
Chained to the lies that lie beside me...
My skin matched up to whip marks. leaving unmarked graves...
Slaves sing at their own funerals...
I remember that song......