It must have pained them to see God manifested in black bodies.
That these angels they chose to chain, were the Christ they claimed to praise.
The vitality of these foreign souls.
To be able to inhale: blood, maltreatment, slaughter
and exhale: grace, perseverance, life.
It must have pained them to see that the Sun would touch their skin, and choose to stay.
That in spite of the lashes, their spines never gave way.
It must pain them to see. So they keep them caged, clip their wings, and miseducate.
It must pain them to see the dirt on their hands. And rather than wash them, they look away, continuing to claim ownership of blood-soaked land.
Yet what is even more painful, you see, is our dependency on them, to set us free.