February is Black History Month–Celebrate!
What tune played upon his heart?
This child; was frightened, crying, distraught?
As cowardly brutes took their pleasure
Of hatred against this onyx treasure.
Deadly still the Tallahatchie
Grey and murky and knowledge that she
Swallowed this child for no good reason
A boyish stare; social treason!
Said it was a whistle from the mouth of this child
That opened a door for tyrants gone wild
To gutlessly hunt him like an animal
Settling the score for his lily white admiral.
Sadder still, a government who turned its’ head
Away from the sin wrought in its bed
Rape, blood, murder, and lies
United in a state of hungry flies.
A Vassal’s Dirge
If you listen, you will hear the song
Of ages; timeless dirges that hung
Heavy on the bare backs of prisoners of hatred
In a place where freedom for some, was sacred
Where chain gangs, clanging, and singing
Wind chimes and lemonade dreams, clinging
To dry tongues of black men and boys’ digressing
Humming Negro spirituals in the sun of oppression
If you listen, you will hear their song—of grief
Home sick fathers laying a mental wreath
Upon graves of babies and mammas who died alone
Hungry and cold. Nobody to help, ‘cause daddies gone
Dragged away in the dimness of night, no warning
Just the firing of a gun and covered heads mourning
The loss of Southern lands and hands—field hands—now foes
Hovering, waiting, darting eyes through peepholes
Come to kill my spirit, torture my seed
And beat my body ‘till it bleed’
If you listen, you will hear the songs
Of angelic women and praying tongues
Of love and hate
And unfortunate fate
Of strength and courage
And a people’s heritage
Born of a longing to be free
Who suffered and died for you and me.
~Rev. BJ Buchanan
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