Tuesday, December 10, 2013

INMATE 46664

In a land of riches
Where the people shined like coal
A story is told of a strong wind that came from the west
Tossing and scattering everything in a rush
Including the life and dignity of a people
My Southern tribe
On every street there were lifeless bodies
In every home and chapel there was intense wailing
T’was the beginning of an end!

Then I rose and lifted a fist in the air
Summoning all my people in protest to this act of in humanity
For this I was caught and shipped unto an island completely cut from the rest of the world
I was shackled and left in a lonely cold cell
With the conscious effort of making my name disappear from my people
Indeed my name did disappear on the lips of some of my people because of fear
Yet it was ever imprinted in their hearts
My colored tribe

For 27 years I worked in cold, rusty, heavy chains
Which hang tightly round my hands and feet making each step a great difficulty
I labored much by breaking limestone; that which destroyed my tear duct
Putting a complete cease to any tear I could ever shed in future
No matter the amount of pain I was
Yet for the love of my people I endured it all
Because I know
 Freedom is coming tomorrow!