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.
They call it the land of the free. Ha, not hardly! Free to pick and choose, according to their rules. Discrimination handed to skin with darker hues. They taught us that slavery is a thing of the past, MLK yelling, “Thank God, I’m free at last!” No disrespect, but he was mighty wrong. We never changed the station, this is just a different song. No lashes on our backs, no lynchings on a tree, forget killing our bodies, they’re slaying us mentally. Drugs placed in our communities, fake thugs on tv, the perfect concoction for genocide of the mind. Older generations complaining that we’re blind, but this is just the product of you all closing your eyes. The Civil Rights movement, stopped, because coloreds were allowed to buy the American Dream, and as you see the product you received was nothing more than a beautiful disease.