- Nov 7, 2018
- 7
- 2
We drink of this cup
in memory of
the trek of our fathers
through valleys and shadows
of deprivation,
the rape of our sisters and mothers
at shows of humiliation-,
by the hand of they who would
refuse them freedom's flow-,
children ripped from the arms
of loved ones they know,
daily whip lashes and empty bowls..
And yet,
We present these sacred 'forget me nots'
Serenading their memories
with reflections and soul selfies
that keep us woke;
toiling while others sleep,
wading neck deep..
in the ****,
seemingly forever gripped
by every bit,
and it is galling-,
Still we present these 'forget me nots'
that their suffering
be never forgotten
the lines are deeply etched,
within our mind's eyes,
still over the horizon lay their sacrificial prize
as we traverse these lows and highs-,
We pause to offer these 'forget me nots'
We be God-walking in the guise of clay-
refusing to bow to sorrow's blade
we turn arrows aimed into boomerangs flung
from quivers hung among the stars,
wrestling with unrealized dreams,
but buoyed upon streams of their visions grand
we still traverse this land.
Presenting these 'forget me nots'
To all who deign to dare not care,
that we've been branded costs now sunk,
within this funk of memories tossed-,
upon heaps of these 'forget me nots'
Lay sons and daughters of Akebulan
carrying names imposed
in bloodied fields of sugarcane
and southern rows of cotton terror reigns
now pinning some to Hades rows
the graffiti of their precious souls
stacked ghost-like
in cells of silenced possibilities,
their lot bargained for filthy lucre's loot-
- those chickens never came to roost-
their bloodied feet still reek
on street corners
and intersections where hate meets fear,
at the chalked outlines
of the damned and the divine-,
along this route of their 'forget me nots'
in memory of
the trek of our fathers
through valleys and shadows
of deprivation,
the rape of our sisters and mothers
at shows of humiliation-,
by the hand of they who would
refuse them freedom's flow-,
children ripped from the arms
of loved ones they know,
daily whip lashes and empty bowls..
And yet,
We present these sacred 'forget me nots'
Serenading their memories
with reflections and soul selfies
that keep us woke;
toiling while others sleep,
wading neck deep..
in the ****,
seemingly forever gripped
by every bit,
and it is galling-,
Still we present these 'forget me nots'
that their suffering
be never forgotten
the lines are deeply etched,
within our mind's eyes,
still over the horizon lay their sacrificial prize
as we traverse these lows and highs-,
We pause to offer these 'forget me nots'
We be God-walking in the guise of clay-
refusing to bow to sorrow's blade
we turn arrows aimed into boomerangs flung
from quivers hung among the stars,
wrestling with unrealized dreams,
but buoyed upon streams of their visions grand
we still traverse this land.
Presenting these 'forget me nots'
To all who deign to dare not care,
that we've been branded costs now sunk,
within this funk of memories tossed-,
upon heaps of these 'forget me nots'
Lay sons and daughters of Akebulan
carrying names imposed
in bloodied fields of sugarcane
and southern rows of cotton terror reigns
now pinning some to Hades rows
the graffiti of their precious souls
stacked ghost-like
in cells of silenced possibilities,
their lot bargained for filthy lucre's loot-
- those chickens never came to roost-
their bloodied feet still reek
on street corners
and intersections where hate meets fear,
at the chalked outlines
of the damned and the divine-,
along this route of their 'forget me nots'
