born singing outside the graveyard
only a whisper a way from share cropping
two generations up from cotton
no way home no way forward
of the wandering tribe of the newly
freed owed nothing owning nothing
determined to survive they struggled
forward in the storm the children
of the whirlwind walking on top
of the water head to the sky eating
the rain traveling with the thunder
dirt under fingernails in nostrils
speaking to the dust the wind
the memory of ocean willing life
from rocky ground purchased an acre
at a time with labor sweat blood tears
the rancid taste of overcoming by bowing
down to own more land hoarding pennies
doing without to hold on to rocky soil
on the steepest part of a hill slim to
none better than nothing work harder
pray with your hands moving building
what they needed no quarter just forward
daring to dream of something on the other
side knowing there was another side
before here separated by water standing
in fire eyes on the horizon feet and soul
planted in the land leaning on it pulling
the next day from it one slender blade at a
time if the harvest is good they will
finally be able to buy horses
to till more land to plant more
dreams for greater tomorrows they
endure the arduous labor of the day
pregnant with the future’s expectations