A price for disgrace was paid out in vain
On a dark day of rage, when an innocent man
Was hung, bound, and chained on a sinner’s tree
That his captor might own his dignity
Respect ran from stripes that could not heal
Torn from the flesh that had lost its appeal
Yet mortal – of blood and bone – still a man
Who dug up the soil and tended the land
To care for his master, his own, some return
Then ignorance lit a fire that would burn
A great sea of rage when upon memory
Of how lives were taken so senselessly
Was this life given so one could be free
As a barter for freedom paid randomly?
No, I think it much too great a cost
That a single drop of blood be lost
Was he not sent by the Great I Am
To live out his life as any man?
Some say that freedom is never free
Who holds the keys to one’s liberty
And what rights have they to judge a man
With a nod of their head or a wave of their hand?
I cannot bear such a great disgrace
This land of freedom has deemed to place
Upon innocent souls who’ve died in vain
To pay for what – to bear our shame?
When indifference dies upon that old tree
Perhaps it will salvage our dignity
Posted on December 1, 2013, in poetry and tagged blood and bone, bound, captor, cost, disgrace, freedom, hung, ignorance, innocent man, lynchings, master, old tree, rage, rights, shame, slavery, stripes. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.