on the banks of the manatawnee
river, there are paths
worn smooth by african feet
and when the winds blow
you can almost hear the sounds
of people running through the rustling
of the bushes
on the banks of the manatawnee
river, there are plush, grassy slopes
that cradled weary bodies
when they could go no further
my mind carries me often
to the river banks that
served to guide my people
to freedom
and I wonder
if the rivers could speak,
what would their waters spill forth?...
and I've heard the night
has a thousand eyes
and I shudder when I
think of all the horrific acts
done beneath the stars
on the banks of the manatawnee
river, a little boy cried
because his father was beaten
till he died ~ and
a man's heart failed
as his woman's body was impaled
and I wonder, if our pain reaches
heaven and pierces the skies
will tears rain down from those
thousand eyes?
a
river, there are paths
worn smooth by african feet
and when the winds blow
you can almost hear the sounds
of people running through the rustling
of the bushes
on the banks of the manatawnee
river, there are plush, grassy slopes
that cradled weary bodies
when they could go no further
my mind carries me often
to the river banks that
served to guide my people
to freedom
and I wonder
if the rivers could speak,
what would their waters spill forth?...
and I've heard the night
has a thousand eyes
and I shudder when I
think of all the horrific acts
done beneath the stars
on the banks of the manatawnee
river, a little boy cried
because his father was beaten
till he died ~ and
a man's heart failed
as his woman's body was impaled
and I wonder, if our pain reaches
heaven and pierces the skies
will tears rain down from those
thousand eyes?
a
