there was a gang of them holding us down
we were no match for such fierce cruelty
we fought back best we could but they
had friends in high places with last
words to say we had the right to last rites
sometimes
if bodies could be
found or were whole enough to recognize
sullen petulant times in the harsh grace of
cotton riding with joe turner & jim crow
in the shadow of the lynching tree that
would stretch forth through centuries to come
becoming legacy and millstone
around the slender neck of equity
marking us like the melanin
no place for us
in the world after cotton
sugarcane railroads and telephone poles
forever set apart by the sins of
founding fathers who were not
saints merely flawed men building
fences around stolen things preaching
law and justice as they slaughtered and divided
spoils manifest greed exceptional ignorance and
superior suppression spoon feed through religion
god bless us swinging in the wind bloated
birds picking at our eyes as a chorus wails
lamenting our bloodied escape while they are still tethered in
terror seeking north stars even ground singing to
remind the Godz where we have landed after falling
through cosmology do you hear us
brave voices raised in a terrible storm
the dust knows
ink lies
cotton has memory
slaved sharecropped
for no crops
jim crow left but joe turner stayed
incarceration is the new plantation
we got 13th amendment blues
mementos of literacy test
grandfather’s clause
black codes
merciless black robes
poll tax
spooks in sheets with a craving
for carving black genitalia
at picnics
hoping not to get picked
we remember the struggle
muffled through cotton we recall the swinging
bodies in the shadow of long days melting into the
void of endless nights trying not to be
seen remembering
quietly carrying
the leaky bags of body parts trauma and overwhelming
grief down hungry streets
past the fences
on the other side
of knowing
we were born free
with dignity
and
everything
there was a gang of them
we fought back best we could
they got friends in high places
with cotton on their breath
saying last words
we got the right to last rites
sometimes
if the bodies
can be found
or are whole enough to recognize
while cotton dreams wide awake out loud
of us falling down
Excellent effort of capturing the atmosphere of the terrorization of our past. No words can truly capture the speechless moments of the dire helplessness but you cause me to stretch my spine and shiver as I look toward the heavens.